The Line of Sight
by twicebornbacchus
Summary: AU: More than a decade after his father was killed in action by the head of Manhattan's underground human trafficking ring, Fei-Wang Reed, Lieutenant Kurogane Suwa of the NYPD is assigned to take up the case, but not before a chance meeting with a tall, blue-eyed stranger begins to collapse the boundaries of his personal and professional life. Rated M for violence, yaoi. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Hi everyone, **it's Bacchus**! If you're not familiar with me, **I write my fics ahead of time** so that they're always **complete** when I start posting (is there anything more depressing than a fic that takes forever to update, or is left incomplete and abandoned?). I like to think of posting a fic like **a mini-series event. **This fic is 10 chapters long, clocking in at around 72,000 words (this first chapter is the shortest of the bunch!) During the next 10 days, **I'll be posting a chapter a day **in the evenings, EST time. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

A person could get lost in New York City.

To do so required a special kind of deliberate recklessness, a willingness to train one's eyes down to the ground and turn at each corner as sharply as possible, let the shoulders hit against passerby, ignore the scents and smells and, most of all, the lights. If you let them, the lights could guide you back anywhere – maybe the place you came from, maybe a destination you were heading, but if you could learn to let your eyes shift ever so slightly out of focus, their sharpness faded into a soft, multi-faceted glow.

And, invariably, when a person wanted to get lost in New York City, after stumbling down streets, dragging themselves through crosswalks, lifting their wearied feet over the trash and puddles of congealed liquid, there was one place always waiting: Central Park.

_Central Park is dangerous at night _was a cliché Kurogane had heard over and over again – a cliché that happened to be true, but still: people whispered about the park like it became some sort macabre world once the dark settled on it. _Everywhere_ in New York City became dangerous at night: the park was no exception. The homeless congregated under the stone bridges, muggers pressed themselves close to towering oaks near the mall, druggies crawled under benches to escape from the rain and cold. Such facts were common of all parks; that Central Park had to bear such a poor reputation was unfair.

He'd parked his patrol car close to the Met museum this evening, an accomplishment impressive even for a police officer – Lieutenant, actually, but civilians didn't bother with rank. Anyone in a uniform was an officer. The last chilly days of a long-lived winter had finally melted into a mild, tentative spring. Kurogane walked through the crisp air, his eyes scanning the pathways, patrolling the park. Even in the night he could discern each colored tulip, green stalks eagerly stretching upward into a quickly warming world, bulbs of red and yellow swaying in the light evening breeze. This was perfect patrol weather – the winter was biting cold, the roads covered in the gray and black slush of grime and snow. In the summer, heat radiated down from the skyscrapers, baking the sewers below and sending a stink up into the air that sent New York City's residents scrambling inside, desperate for relief from even half-broken ventilation systems. Kurogane had told his partner, Souma, that he liked the fall the best, when all the leaves fell away and the world remained poised on the brink of winter. He was lying; spring was his favorite season. The park was his regular patrol, once a week, and it was in the spring that the park, like its City, shuddered in fits of impatience. Already pansies had bloomed out of the ground, heedless of any possible last-minute frost. Everything happened all at once in the fall, all the leaves turning and drifting within just a week of strong wing, but when it came to the spring, Central Park woke in fits and starts, never blooming in any cohesion. Everywhere, chaos irrupted as life – beautiful, sturdy life – refused to be held back any longer. It was impossible not to admire it every year.

Tonight he indulged himself with the flora a little more than he would have normally; Souma wasn't with him (and if there was something Souma didn't give him a hard time about, he hadn't discovered it yet), which was just as well. It was her first year anniversary with a rather successful banker who lived all the way over in Brooklyn, a banker with hair as dark as Souma's, but skin like ivory. He wasn't surprised to learn that Souma was a lesbian, but he was severally annoyed that his partner (with whom he had a friendly, if intense, professional rivalry with) had bagged such a _hot _girlfriend. There was some sort of injustice in the world when cold, stone-faced Souma was rewarded with a rich, beautiful lover who also happened to know the Chief of the Department, thus guaranteeing that, when Souma bought tickets for a theatre show (he hadn't even bothered to remember which one), she was granted the night off…_with pay. _

_Some injustice. _His eyes scanned the dark; he was approaching the Shakespeare Garden, his eyes sweeping over the eerie statues. He was trained to use a flashlight on patrol this late at night, but a flashlight was a great way of altering criminals a good half mile off that he was on patrol, which defeated the point of catching them, and if push came to shove, his gun had a mounted light, anyways. There was an ethical dilemma wrapped up in that, Kurogane knew – after all, if you _prevented _a crime, you saved a victim, but if you kept your damned flashlight off and intended to _catch _a criminal in the act, you could prevent more future crimes by getting the bastard locked up. His duty belt was equipped with the normal protections – a Taser ("When speaking to the press, be sure to refer to it as an _electronic control device,_ and _not _a Taser," Chief Yuuko had hissed at him – he had a bad habit of saying things he shouldn't to the press), his flashlight, a baton, handcuffs, pepper spray, and a magazine pouch with three extra clips for his standard issue Glock 19; it had been his father's gun when he was on the force, and Kurogane often reached down, tracing his fingers over the initials his father had had etched in the side. Each magazine held 15 rounds, meaning that he had 60 bullets (and the reflexes to use them) if he ever found himself in a tight situation.

Which he had done.

The only good thing about mandatory leave following a weapons discharge was that it was with pay; Special Teams had always cleared him and shown him in the right after he had taken a life on duty.

Which he had also done.

He was approaching the mall now, the long walkway of oaks raising their empty boughs to the sky. A movement in the opposite direction caught his eyes. He followed his instinctually; he'd graduated from the academy at 20, and eight years of swift, darting movements in the corner of his vision had taught him to pay attention. He was good at judging whether someone was a man or a woman in the dark; the tell was in the hips and the gait: women swayed. The person who had caught his attention was definitely a man, one who was tall and almost sickly thin, walking with jaunty, nervous steps. _If that's not a goddamn crackhead, I'm an idiot, _he thought viciously, stalking after the figure. He hated druggies most of all (he hated anyone who threw away their lives so pathetically), but he hated _this _druggie for interrupting what could have been a pleasant evening patrol.

He was close now; the person had sped up at the sound of footsteps behind him, a natural response, but the speed was too clumsy, like panic was fighting against a need for control, the hallmark of someone engaging in suspicious activity. The flashlight slipped out of his utility belt, the light flooding the figure.

"Police: freeze."

He said it with no particular force; he was trained to be casual when encountering people in the park. There was no need to provoke anyone who might be on the edge of attempting to shoot or stab him, but his words had an instant affect on the person.

The man turned to him, his face flooded with intense relief. For a potential crackhead, he was remarkably well dressed: a white, loose-fitting, long-sleeve V-neck hung on a lanky frame, a blue vest buttoned over the front of it, tugging it in, trimming his torso. Long legs stretched down below him in a pair of skinny, black jeans, disappearing at the knee into even skinnier laced black boots. Blonde hair was pulled back over his shoulder in a roguish ponytail, the bangs just failing to hide startlingly blue eyes.

"Well, this is a surprise!" The man leaned back on one foot and brought the other behind him, the toe pointed neatly into the ground behind his ankle. Two arms came up and crossed behind his back as a smile spread across his face.

Kurogane took it all in, sizing him up quickly: a sudden, disarming smile, coupled with a drastic posture change (and the tell of hands moving behind the back, meant to be disarming), reeked of deceit.

"Central Park is quite a place to go for a stroll at night," he suggested. It was best not to ask questions in the beginning: supplying statements for the suspect to reply to was a far more effective method of questioning.

That dazzling smile widened. "Who says I was going for a stroll?"

_A smartass. Perfect. _His eyes narrowed; he flashed the light deliberately into the depths of those shocking blue eyes, watching as the pupils dilated..._not high, then, _he thought. "What were you doing, then?"

A playful, singsong voice answered. "Oh…I was just going out for a stroll."

Kurogane decided the man was going to get a citation – for what, he wasn't sure yet, but he'd find something. He remembered the jerking way he had moved…and how he had pulled his arms behind his back. Crackheads' eyes sunk deep into the sockets, their cheekbones sharpening the outline of their face. This man looked well-fed, well-dressed…his eyes flicked back to his arms again. Maybe he was hiding track-marks; heroin was always a problem in the park after-hours.

"What for?"

There, the moment of hesitation before a lie – it lasted for half a second, but it flitted across his face all the time. "No reason. I just wanted some fresh air."

"You live nearby?"

"I live in the city."

A non-answer; Kurogane was becoming severally annoyed.

"Let's see some I.D."

A wide, apologetic smile answered him. "I'm sorry, but I don't have it on me."

"What do you have on you, then?"

He blinked, as if he didn't quite understand the question, but Kurogane could see he was a fast one. He let his arms fall forward to his sides quickly; the forearms were bare of any sign of needle use.

"Nothing," he said. "I was actually on my way home…"

"Don't move until I tell you to. I'm going to need you to submit to a search."

Well, that worked – the façade cracked a little, eyes widening in genuine surprise, but it was replaced again by that cool, self-assured look. He smiled politely and took a step backward; Kurogane braced to draw his Taser, but the man froze again, realizing what he had done. "That's not really necessary, is it?"

"Maybe it wouldn't have been if you weren't such a smartass," he snapped. "Come here – put your palms flat against the tree. Lean forward, and stand with your legs a foot apart."

A pleasant, compliant smile, followed by a nod, and the man came forward, leaning against the oak tree. His boots rapped smartly on the road as he moved, waiting.

Kurogane slipped the flashlight back into his belt, the light pointing up, and crouched down near the man's boots. Thumb and forefinger pinched at the ankle, drawing the material as tight as possible; no sign of a hidden knife appeared, but he pressed his hands against the shoes all the same. The idea of a pat down was that he could feel anything hidden under baggy clothing, but the man was wearing such _tight_ clothes, it seemed impossible anything other than his skin could be under there. He gave a half-hearted pat-down near the back of his knee just above where the boot ended and instead let his hands slide up, pausing as he felt the back of the man's thigh. He was lean, but not the sort of thinness from drug abuse – he could feel the taunt muscle underneath the jeans as his fingers slid upward.

_Don't do what you're thinking about doing, _he thought. There was a wild freedom in the dark, and with it, an intoxicating sense of power and authority – he'd seen it go to many an officer's head, usually a month or so before he'd see them on the news for police brutality. He tried to ignore the thought that was nagging at him now, the sudden, intense desire to run his hand up a little higher. The guy was sober, most likely not a drug abuser…good-looking.

Alone.

Kurogane started on the other leg, mind racing now; he'd never abused his power or authority, but then again…maybe this was a gray area. If he let the guy go and asked for his number afterwards, did that count as inappropriate? _You fucking know it's inappropriate, don't kid yourself, _he cursed inwardly. He felt like he was sixteen again in the gym showers, hormones addling his brain, as he glanced up at the rest of the man's body, thinking that even if the guy was a smartass…he was attractive in the sort of way that set his teeth on edge, and Kurogane hadn't been with anyone in a while. Souma called him "picky"; Yuko called him "abrasive." Kurogane could agree with both of them, but then…why was his hand shaking, just the smallest bit? _You could play it off like it was nothing, _he thought suddenly, imagining himself moving his hand over the edge of his pants, around his hips – _if he doesn't go for it, you can just pass it off as standard procedure. _He knew he had just moved knee-deep into "inappropriate behavior" territory; he swallowed, steadied himself, and almost talked himself out of doing what he was finding hard to resist.

Almost.

Kurogane moved up the right leg, straightening to stand as he did so. His fingers slipped past the man's inner thigh, dragging lightly up the cleft of his rear with just enough suggestive pressure as his hands moved, sliding over his hip bones, patting his sides. The man sucked in his breath and froze so solidly that he could feel the tension in him under his clothes. Heart pounding, Kurogane's fingers curled around the blond's chest as he moved up his body, pressing closer now. He stood a good head taller than the man; he leaned in and inhaled the scent of lavender soap and sweat, reaching around to pat at a firm chest, and breathed down onto the bridge of an ear where two silver piercings glinted in the flashlight, his hands finally resting on top of the palms still pressed flatly against the tree.

His mind was heavy with lust now, even as his rational mind berated him for his actions, but it was easier to ignore his conscience with the feeling of the man shaking against him with desire … Kurogane brought one hand away, dragging his fingers down the man's chest, down past the buckle on the belt that lay so snug and tight against slender hips that would feel amazing bucking into him, and caressed his member, knowing he was crossing a line. There would be no rationalizing this away, and his heart was beating too fast to care anymore.

"So." Kurogane let the word hang between them, a trap designed to get the blond to make the obvious suggestion, suddenly nervous to do it himself. _You could be throwing away your job – have you lost your mind? _Probably, but lately there had been something hollow inside him growing – something that had started small and gotten bigger when he saw how happy Souma was with her girlfriend, something that had grown a little larger inside each night he came home to an empty apartment. That hollow was filled now, bursting with excitement, nerves, lust, adrenaline – the satisfaction of filling that space, in that single moment, couldn't compete with his head.

His instincts flared to life with a sudden alarm. The atmosphere had shifted; the night was suddenly much chillier than he remembered, and the man's breathing was too fast – _much _too fast, and his shaking had turned into a violent trembling. Kurogane's blood slowed in his veins, dread stabbing at him as he looked down; everything suddenly emptied out of the hollow inside him, leaving him winded. The man's teeth, shining in the light of the flashlight, had bit down into a quavering bottom lip. Drops of bright red blood had flowed to the surface, threatening to spill like the unshed tears that had collected in the long lashes above them.

"I thought –" The man's voice cracked, but he swallowed thickly, his eyes flashing with anger even as his words shook with fear, "I thought police were supposed to _protect _people from…from people like _you_." Hatred warred with terror; terror won, fixing him to the spot.

Kurogane stepped back as though he'd been punched in the gut.

The blond let out a desperate gasp for air, his arms falling down at his sides. He turned around, his back to the oak now, and stared at the shocked police officer, his expression oddly empty. The brilliant smile from earlier was gone; a shell looked out at him, waiting.

"What are you going to do me?" He whispered. Haunted blue eyes lingered on his duty belt, moving from the pepper spray to the Taser and baton…and then gun. They stayed fixed on the gun, locked on his father's initials, not daring to look up into his face.

His father…_what would my father think of me right now? _His own thoughts came lashing at him, hot and full of rebuke. _Jesus Christ, this guy thinks I'm going to fucking assault him… _No, he realized with horror, he already _had _assaulted him. Like everyone else, he'd finally lost himself in Central Park. Kurogane's mind raced; he had flashed his badge when he first stopped him, but not long enough for the guy to make a note of the badge number or anything. Not that he'd have to, though; _how many police officers were patrolling Central Park this evening that would match my description? _

"I wasn't –" He began, and stopped. _This – this wasn't supposed to happen. _It would be stupid to deny it, but it was the look the man was giving him that cut his words off. There was something defeated and broken in the way his gaze remained locked on his sidearm, and he saw now that two fists had formed at the end of thin, shaking arms. An image flashed in his mind's eye: the flashlight illuminating them both, the genuine relief on the blonde's face at seeing he was a police officer…the flash of anger and betrayal at learning that a police officer didn't necessarily mean safety. For the third time that night, Kurogane's instincts caught up with him, and a sudden sense of self-disgust crashed heavily into his chest.

"I'm sorry…" He stopped again, feeling the immense inadequacy of his words. He'd met many a 'victim of sexual assault,' such a clinical, cold phrase, and they always had that same look on their face. He could be wrong; he'd made one life-changing error this evening, so maybe his guess was way off the mark – maybe the guy had just been robbed, and that was why now there was no answer, only the continued, unwavering gaze on his gun. He hoped he was wrong, because he knew he'd carry the guilt and regret from this for the rest of his life.

He suddenly wished Souma was there; it was a fucking stupid wish, but he wished it all the same.

Kurogane sighed and drew out his citation booklet from the back of his belt. The sound of the paper ripping out of the neat spirals cut through the night; the click of his pen was even louder.

"Here."

The blond looked up, his face expressionless. Kurogane shuddered; it would take a long time to forget that look. He'd have plenty of free time to try, though, right after he was fired. When the man didn't reach for the paper he was holding, Kurogane reached forward and grasped his fist; the arm jerked in his grasp, flinching away from him as the paper was shoved in it.

"Take it."

Blue eyes looked down; his fingers unwound the crumpled paper, studying the contents.

It contained all of Kurogane's personnel info.

The officer spoke clearly, his voice surprisingly steady. "My name is Lieutenant Kurogane Suwa," he said. "My badge number is 53771. I am an officer of the New York City Police Department, 24th Precinct. I report to the Chief of Department Yuuko Ichihara. And…I'm sorry. I apologize for my actions."

The man's expression slowly changed as he continued to stare at the written information. Fear melted into confusion…then disbelief.

"Is this a joke?"

He stiffened, drawing himself up to his full height. "It's the necessary information for you to file a report against me for my actions."

"Before or after…?"

A dark eyebrow rose. "Before or after _what_?"

His eyes flit nervously toward his gun. "Are going to assault me?"

He wanted to shout at the man, but he wrestled for control; if he was right about what he suspected of the blond, he needed to remain calm. He'd become an officer in order to protect people…and he had fucked up, regret and humiliation coiling in his gut, poisoning his insides. "I've already assaulted you," he said, measuring his words carefully. "I have no excuse to offer you, and I have no intention of doing anything else."

The man threw his head back, a bitter, jarring laugh cutting through him; the sound sent shivers down Kurogane's spine. "You call _that _an assault?" Something of his previous smile flitted across his face. "If you're going to be reported for sexual assault, you might as well get what you wanted – it won't make much of a difference on the paperwork. And I know how this works, too," he said, and now the smile was completely back, cold and wide and empty, but his voice was light, as if they'd been chatting along in a friendly conversation. The disconnect between his voice and smile and eyes was inhuman. "It'll be my word against yours – you, an officer of the law, and me…" He trailed off suddenly, quiet. "And we both know who the law will side with."

Kurogane's impatience won. "I'm not going to fucking touch you," he snapped. "And I'll corroborate your story in the morning."

A slightly less shaky hand came up, brushing away the bangs from his eyes. "And you're saying I'm free to go stroll over to the station now, report you, and you're going to – what? Go home, go to bed? And in the morning, go to your precinct, and corroborate whatever I say happened?"

His eyes narrowed. "I will report what _happened_, and I will deny all _embellishments._"

Something that gleamed in his red eyes did it; the man took a hesitant step backward, and seeing that Kurogane made no move to grab a weapon, took another. "Just…" He was still moving backward slowly, his voice hitching as a wild hope caught in his chest. "…Why?"

_"Tch._" He snorted and looked away. "Get out of here."

Kurogane didn't look back toward where he had been standing until the sound of hurried footsteps was gone. Alone in the night, he walked back the way he had come, his flashlight casting eerie shadows as he went.

* * *

Tomoyo had tried to stay up and wait for him; when he got back to his apartment, he found her asleep on the couch. She hadn't weighed much when she was young, and she still didn't weigh much now, he thought, lifting her up into his arms. He shoved the door to his room open with his shoulder, carrying her through the darkness toward the mattress. Tomoyo shifted in his arms, mumbled something, and was silent as he laid her carefully down, her head resting on his pillow.

The couch it would be, then; that was fine. He didn't think he could sleep, anyways.

Tomoyo lived next to him, directly across the hall. They both had keys to each other's apartments in case of an emergency; to his cousin, Kurogane _himself_ was an emergency. "You know, I know a few guys…" she had once tried (_why _did everyone always 'know a few guys?' Was there some sort of directory he'd forgotten to sign up for?) but he had flatly refused all her match-making offers. As a result, she came and went at his place more often than her own. His suits were always pressed and ironed, food always waiting (a richly lacquered bento box sat on the counter, waiting for him – his favorite. She always got him one after he had to go out on night patrol) as part of her efforts to fill what she had decided was a gaping hole in his life. He took on as many shifts as he could; in eight years of police work, only two or three weeks had gone by where he hadn't clocked in overtime. Tomoyo had taken it upon himself to keep his house tidy, his life in order – rarely had he ever come home to an unmade bed; it didn't matter how many times he told her to stop wasting her efforts on him, that none of this was necessary. She would just smile and nod sympathetically in her way that was as good as saying, "Thank you for voicing your opinion on the matter, but I'm going to do what I want."

And she had.

He sat down on the couch, a scotch in one hand. He didn't think he could eat, but he could always drink. The duty belt dug painfully into the small of his back; he held himself still, welcoming the pain as some sort of karmic punishment for…_for being a fool. _Well, there went the drink – he had intended to sip it and brood, instead tossing it back in one go.

He really had been a fool. In one bad decision, he had tossed his career away.

_One bad decision. _He stared up at the ceiling and let the thought that had come to him in the park – the thought that was most painful of all – creep into his mind.

_What would Father say? _

Kurogane poured himself another, taller drink.

His father had served for almost twenty years as one of "New York's finest," as the saying went… Hundreds of people owed their lives to him, least of all Kurogane. He poured himself another drink and sat back heavily on the couch, taking a long gulp of his scotch and welcoming the burning in the back of his throat; it would have been nice to call him up now and ask if he'd ever made one poor judgment in his time as an officer, knowing full well he had; Kurogane was about to lose his career. His father had lost his life.

Funny thing about the dead: they were so damned hard to reach by telephone.

He might have ended up serving with his father; might have been assigned as his partner even. That would have been something – his father would certainly have kept him in line. He'd never have met that man tonight, never seen that look…

Kurogane's stomach tightened at the memory. Eight years was a drop in the bucket compared to others on the force, but in eight years he had gathered enough experience to recognize the haunted, animal look of a victim. There were different tells, depending on the nature of the crime that had been committed against them: female mugging victims tended to walk with one hand gripped around both purse handles, down by the base of the purse instead of up at the shoulder, the other hand in their pocket (gripping pepper spray); male robbery victims didn't add extra locks to the front door – they usually added a dog. Something big, with a very loud bark. He wasn't good with victims; Souma was. He preferred to get out on the streets and arrest perpetrators; victims made him uncomfortable, uneasy, and the way they looked up at him when he was at the station, squirming with the knowledge that they were making him uncomfortable and uneasy and desperately hating him for knowing whatever new part of their past they now had to keep secret, hoping everyone could just forget it and treat them normal again…made everything worse. _You're over thinking it, _he thought. _Just try and get some sleep. _

Kurogane got up from the couch and went back to the kitchen. Cold, empty blues eyes looked up at him in his mind, and he leaned over the sink and wretched as quietly as he could manage, unable to think about the person he had almost become tonight…and the person he was.

He didn't want to wake Tomoyo up.

* * *

"Kurogane."

Kurogane opened his eyes, uncrossing his arms. Yuuko poked her head out of the office, motioning for him to come inside. He'd gotten down to the Manhattan headquarters at quarter to 7, and the first thing out of Yuuko's mouth, before he could even say anything, was, "We need to talk."

So he'd sat down heavily in the chair outside her office and waited.

It was 7:15 when he walked in and sat down across from her, her cool gaze unusually professional and crisp. Yuuko had a way of making her police uniform look like a slutty Halloween costume, not that that was a bad thing. It was strange how _un-_obscene Yuuko's ample cleavage was; once, she had buttoned her shirt all the way up, a show of modesty that was so distracting and unsettling for the police force that she might as well have shown up stark naked. She preferred a skirt rather than pants, and her legs – long and bare, no stockings – were elegantly crossed at the knees, ending in red heels. Her hair was pulled back today in a pony tail, a pair of wire-rim glasses balanced on her nose, purely for fashion – Yuuko had been a sharp shooter in her day. She looked him up and down, and in a voice that stung of clipped professional courtesy, spoke.

"We need to talk about last night."

He nodded. Whatever words he had to say were stuck in his throat.

Yuuko shifted and pulled the glasses off. She took a deep, steadying breath. "Sexual harassment is a very serious issue."

A pounding headache began, sneaking up on him so suddenly that he wondered if he'd woken up with it and just forgotten about it. His mouth had gone suddenly dry; once again, his arms came up, crossing in front of his chest. He didn't need to speak; he'd let Yuuko just lay it all out for him and take whatever he had coming.

"Which is why," she continued. "I want to apologize."

"…You what?"

She gave a small, polite cough. "You and I have had a very friendly working environment between us, and over the years, we've certainly given each other our share of grief. In fact, I'd say you've given me far more hell than I've ever given you, but…" Yuuko changed her tone, smiling brightly. "That's beside the point! What I'm saying, Kurogane," she purred, leaning over the desk, her breasts sinking down onto the table, "Is that I'm _terribly _sorry about those texts…and I would really, _truly _appreciate it if you were to, say, not report them." She pouted playfully, trying to win him over. "It would be _awful _messy for the Police Commissioner if one of my officers accused me of sexual harassment and he had to replace me on such short notice."

"…Texts?"

"Your phone." She dropped the cute act and pointed at his duty belt. "I got a little drunk with some friends last night. I might have texted you once or twice."

He hadn't checked; he'd left it on silent while on patrol and never bothered to change it when he got home, his mind on other things. Lots of other things. Head spinning, Kurogane lifted his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"Once or _twice?_" _Twenty-five new messages _blinked up at him.

"You know, why don't you hand that to me and let me delight them?" She made a feline snatch at the phone, which he promptly held out of her reach. Yuuko had sent him the equivalent of a smut novel, describing what she would do to twenty five of his body parts, starting with those areas of highest priority and sparing no modesty: mouth, cock, ass, thigh, inner thigh (she always had an eye for details), lower back, calf, arms, chest, neck, shoulder blades, shoulders, ears, biceps, triceps, "whatever that muscle is that connects your arm to that chest of yours" (_deltoid, _he thought, annoyed), abdomen, pecs, nipples… The list went on. He grew more amazed as he clicked through the texts, the descriptions of her sexual designs growing more vivid and imaginative even as the grammar grew worse and worse until the last text ended with a half-apologetic "im druuuuuunk lets fuck."

Yuuko sunk pathetically down onto the desk. "Are you going to report me?"

Kurogane shut the phone carefully and put it away. "…Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Eh?" Yuuko sat up and eyed him suspiciously. "No, nothing – why?"

"No reason." He stood up and pushed away from the desk, preparing to leave.

"Er, Kurogane – you know it has always been my professional opinion that we should hook up and clear away our unresolved sexual tension. It creates a strained working environment."

"Yuuko," he growled, but her eyes were gleaming with the jest.

"Okay, okay, fine. Just because you don't like women…I don't see why you can't be open to new experiences. I've kissed a few girls in my time!"

"_Yuuko!_"

"Fine, I've kissed more than a few girls in my time," she winked "…and did a little bit more than kissing, if we're being completely honest with each other. That's beside the point, though." She waved her hand in the air, indicating their conversation was over. "Anyways, if I crossed a line, I apologize, and I give you permission to yell at me to your dark heart's content. Go ahead – your roar is legendary. Hit me with it."

Kurogane sighed; Yuuko smiled, knowing the telling off from her inferior wasn't going to come.

"Just forget it," he muttered. "I've done worse."

Without explaining himself, he left her office; Souma would be waiting for him by the car.


	2. Chapter 2

__**Author's Note: **Thank you for your reviews! :D **Karma-Kat:** Yes, that was the idea, you clever reader, you! **Uakari**, what are you doing reading my fic? You should be writing that **smexy vampire Harlequin romance!** (I really have to wait until SEPTEMBER to read it?) Anyways, **thank you and zelinxia** for your honest reviews! I enjoy soc-psych, but I specialized in psychoanalysis, so you could run circles around me in that department, zelinxia. **Thanks for reading something by me again, xxx!** I'm glad you like the chapter length! Each subsequent chapter after this gets longer by the last one by 1,000 or so, with the last chapter double the length of the first (I enjoy quirky things like that). Anyways, I said I'd update in the evenings (which I will) but I'm heading out all day and won't be back till later, so **I'm posting early.** Thanks again!

* * *

_Why?_

He couldn't understand why the guy hadn't reported him. The thought kept him up at night, rankled him and stopped him from sleeping. Tomoyo had sensed something was wrong and discreetly given him space. She was like a fairy, almost otherworldly, in the way she had swooped in without being seen and made sure he had food and laundry (and bless her: even alcohol). Eventually he'd have to go and talk to her, tell her to stop worrying; he hadn't seen her in a week, but her presence was all around him, like an unseen force of good in his otherwise crumbling world.

After a week, even Souma had, in a moment of unparalleled concern, asked him stiffly, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he'd grunted. He hadn't had a good night sleep in a week. He was up, his mind replaying the same events over and over, kicking himself mentally harder each time, and by the time he finally did manage to fall asleep, he dreamed of eyes that burned into him like cold, blue jewels.

His nerves were shot, his bed sheets soaked through with his sweat. Tomoyo had washed them four times in the last two weeks (he could tell – when she made his bed with crisp linen, he could bounce a dime off them, if he tried). The horrible thought that the guy was waiting to turn him in gnawed away like a rat in his gut, a slow, drawn out torture.

Two weeks had passed; Kurogane got up on Friday morning and went down to headquarters, feeling oddly at peace. It was as if his mental breaking point had finally snapped in the night, and a new calm – a "fuck it, he'll turn me in or he won't" mentality – rushed to fill its place. He'd worked his ass off for the past fourteen days, trying to make himself believe that he was still a good police officer, still deserved to carry a badge and protect the people of New York City, even if he secretly felt otherwise…it was out of his control now.

"You look refreshed. Coffee?" Souma handed him a tall cup of the drink, black like he liked it. When he offered a gruff but nevertheless polite "thanks," she openly stared at him as he clocked in, rifling through the case files on his desk.

They were called back to the station around noon after spending the morning following up on three investigations. Yuuko declared that she wanted the officers to eat lunch together at the precinct (_great, _he thought, annoyed) and decided to treat them all to lunch from her favorite restaurant...

…That was halfway across the town.

"Souma, Kurogane, I've already placed the order – go pick it up, would you?"

"You're paying for the gas!" He snapped. She grinned and waved as they left the building.

The lunch rush foot traffic had packed the streets, all the more annoying because he was in a hurry. True, a police uniform did wonders for clearing the bulk of the people out of his way, but there were still the hapless idiots and the rude assholes. New York City had a bad reputation for being _filled _with rude assholes, but it was undeserved; the regulars kept their heads down and walked with the swift maneuverability of a serpent. Long streams of people wound in and out of each other, snaking their way through the city, but Kurogane had always had trouble blending in with the masses this way: his large stature made slipping unnoticed through the crowds impossible, not to mention his habit of watching people brought attention back to himself.

Yuuko was friends with the young man who managed The Pipe Fox, a restaurant known for its traditional Japanese food, quick service, and reasonable prices. _How _she knew him, Kurogane didn't know, but it couldn't be healthy: he had to be at least ten years younger than her. The food, admittedly, was great, but the restaurant was way the fuck out of the way on the other side of the city. A mile anywhere else was a minute; a New York City mile could be an hour.

"Put your sirens on!" Yuuko had shouted at him on the way out. "And stop scowling!"

He'd scowled the whole way there.

"There're plenty of _closer _places." Most officers didn't take lunch breaks, or if they did, they ate on the go, in the car. Driving out to The Pipe Fox and getting back would take, considering lunch traffic, a good half hour to begin with, at best. Add another half hour to eat, and that was an hour carved out of the day…and his pay. When they ate at the precinct, they had to clock out for lunch.

"Why do you have to growl everything you say? I'd compare you to one of the dogs, but frankly, they're better mannered." Souma rolled her eyes as he scowled further, stopping the car in the middle of the street across from The Pipe Fox. Behind them, the shriek of taxi horns protested her disregard for traffic rules. "I'll never get a spot – go pick up the order and I'll circle the block."

He made sure to slam the door behind him.

The Pipe Fox was a cozy little den of a place nestled within the financial district; at night, the area shut down and plunged into darkness like some sort of B-rate zombie movie. The white-collars went home and the businesses shut down. In the day, the streets were crammed with well-off pedestrians hurrying to catch a meal before the stocks took their mid-afternoon plummet. The restaurant had an eclectic flair about it – as one of the few non-chain eateries in the financial district, it had attracted attention to itself by having the audacity to be authentically 'local' and yet stubbornly foreign. He'd been to a few garish Japanese restaurants in his time, decorated with tacky paintings of cranes flying over misty mountains, images that catered to the American sensibility of what 'Asian' (Korean, Japanese, or Chinese, it was all the same) was supposed to look like. The Pipe Fox eschewed these kitsch cop-outs with an attitude that said "Screw American sensibility" and set up shop its own way: red columns arched up outside the entrance to the restaurant, sleek and finished, and the front door – small, black, dark – sat forebodingly at the top of a pair of stone steps. To stare at it head on was to look at what appeared to be a small hole-in-the-wall eatery…but to look _up, _well, that was a different story.

Many stories, in fact. The Pipe Fox took up six floors of the building, unusually large for a restaurant, and each story of the building was visible through the polished glass walls. The idea behind the layout was to first provide the customers with space, and second, comfort. Individual eating spaces were set off from sliding glass doors, where inside, tables sat on the ground, mats below them. When it had first opened up, Kurogane had made an unwise bet with Yuuko that it wouldn't last two months. "Americans like to sit in chairs," he'd jeered.

Yuuko had grinned at him. "Americans also love _novelty._"

He'd lost a week's worth of pay to his arrogance.

One thing was sure, he thought begrudgingly as he walked up the steps, passing through the door. The Pipe Fox had the best liquor in all of New York City, which was a _feat, _and Kurogane would know: Yuuko had a tradition that, once a month, she and six officers would go out drinking for one stinky night of black-out debauchery in a private room at The Pipe Fox. Whoever passed out first was kicked out the next month, exchanged for a lucky new invitee. The tradition was cut-throat: if you had tickets to a game or other plans and couldn't make it, you lost your spot on the drinking team. This had gone on for the last four years; rank no longer mattered as much at the station as bragging rights regarding who had been in the Chief of Department's Drinking Club the longest.

Kurogane had been invited the first month and been in ever since.

"Kurogane!"

Himawari looked up from behind the hostess stand, a smile brightening her face. It was a good feeling when someone knew your name in a place as big as New York City.

"Hey."

It was a gracious greeting from the lieutenant. "I'll go get Watanuki," she said, and rushed off.

Kurogane glanced around the bottom floor of the restaurant; the place was bustling, though you couldn't tell by looking – all of the rooms were separated on the polished hardwood floor, but the open-bar in the back told a different story: business men clustered around it, polishing off afternoon drinks with differing degrees of guilt. Eyes slid over him, taking in the police uniform.

The manager came storming out from behind the kitchen door at the far end of the restaurant. He was a scrawny kid; his white chef jacket looked too lose about him, and his glasses had a way of slipping down his nose.

He was livid.

"_Here._" A large take-out bag was shoved rudely into his hands. "You tell Yuuko this is _ridiculous. _It's Friday – _Friday! _Do you even know what that means? No, of course you don't. I'll tell you what that means." Watanuki was off, ranting about how Yuuko had a special penchant for calling in the most complicated meals in the shortest notices on the busiest day of the week…and then _putting it on her tab. _Which was large, Watanuki wanted him to know. Impressively large, and –

"Excuse me!"

Someone bumped into the back of him, or rather, some _thing. _It looked a bit like a fragrant, potted shrub of some type with broad, waxy green leaves, hiding whoever carried the thing behind it.

"Where's Doumeki?" Watanuki's diatribe was interrupted. "I told him to bring that in for you. I'm always apologizing for that lazy, no-good…" He paused, fuming again. "Take the basil back to the kitchen, if you don't mind. Sorry, Fai!"

"Don't worry about it!" The plant moved past, heading back, and Kurogane watched the person go, his eyes widening: tall frame, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail that was slipping lose, skinny jeans ending in new, brown leather boots, the back of an apron tied behind a collared shirt…

The kitchen door swung shut, and the man disappeared inside.

"And another thing –"

"Christ, kid, if she owes you that much, just stop filling her orders!"

Watanuki blinked at him. "It's hard to say no to the _owner._"

_That _through him for a loop. Then again, Yuuko seemed the type to have her hand in a number of honey pots. "What'd you do, sleep with her to get the start-up money?"

Watanuki's face turned a remarkable shade of crimson. "That is _none _of your business. And the answer is _no, _anyways. Enjoy your meal!" He turned and stormed back to the kitchen.

Himawari still hadn't returned. Kurogane figured Souma could take another go around the block if it meant confirming his suspicions; a chance-meeting didn't happen every other day, and the chances were slim, but even so… Kurogane ducked behind one of the private walls and waited for the sound of the kitchen door to swing open again, boots clicking on hardwood floor, the front door opening…

He took a deep breath and followed, trying not think of the many, many ways this could go horribly wrong.

The blond jaunted down the steps toward a Jeep that had inexplicably managed to park in front of the restaurant, reaching into the open back seat for a large, clear bag bursting full with indigo leaves of some sort. By the time he turned around to come back up the steps, Kurogane was standing at the bottom, staring at him.

His work apron was dirty, smudged with potting soil, and a pair of shears hung out the front pocket, down near his hips. His jeans were every bit as dirty as the rest of him, but his shirt sleeves had been rolled and buttoned just above the elbow; an identical black marking, an odd tattoo, poked out an inch from where the sleeves ended, hinting at a design he couldn't see. Huh. He hadn't pegged the guy as someone to get a tattoo, but then again, two familiar silver hoops gleamed in his left earlobe.

Puzzled blue eyes blinked up at him as a polite smile asked wordlessly for him to move out of the way. Kurogane continued to stare back, unspeaking, waiting for the moment of recognition. It came slowly; first the polite smile fell away, replaced by a slight frown, and then the confusion melted away with it. The two sapphires staring at him doubled in size.

"Hello, Fai." He tried out the name he'd heard Watanuki use, speaking deliberately slowly.

Whatever shock Fai felt, he recovered from it quickly, bolstered by the crowds of people filing past on the sidewalk behind him. The smile returned.

"Oh, my – you know my name! You must have been missing me!"

Well, he'd certainly been thinking about him, but _he _didn't have to know that. "Watanuki said your name."

"He always was so…familiar." He smiled wider. "And you, if I remember correctly, are…hold on, don't tell me!" He leaned forward, balancing on his toes, and a thin finger came up to pursed lips as he mimicked being lost deeply in thought. "Let's see…it started with Kuro. I'm _sure _it started with Kuro, and it ended with…oh, I remember! Five-three-seven-seven-one!"

Red eyes narrowed. "You remember my badge number and not my name?"

Fai came down off his toes, a sly grin pulling across his face a little too tightly. He walked up the steps deliberately, eyes trained on the officer, and pointedly, almost challengingly, poked his badge, where his number gleamed. "No. But I can still read."

Kurogane stepped back, glaring at him. "Why didn't you report me?"

An elegant eyebrow rose, curious. Fai's eyes passed over him thoughtfully, drinking him in now in the sunlight: thick forearms extended from the too-tight sleeves of his uniform, and his duty belt sat snugly on his waist, balancing in a way that indicated sharp, jutting muscles from years of training.

Fai grinned. "You look like something out of a porno, you know that?"

Yuuko had said as much to him on many, many occasions. Unfazed, he glared harder, his voice low. "Answer my question."

Fai only grinned wider. "Why didn't I ruin your life? Is that what you're asking me? I guess I didn't want to take one of New York's finest off the streets – you're so busy doing so much _good. _Just look at you! I'll bet someone is real hungry for whatever is in that bag. It smells great! You should get going; don't want it to get cold!"

The infuriating part was how genuinely friendly he sounded; he was such an expert at mocking that it didn't even come off as mocking. _Damn him. _

"I want an _honest _answer."

Fai threw his hands up in frustration; the bag of leaves rustled. "Did I ask you _why _you assaulted me?" Kurogane looked up sharply; Fai dropped his voice lower, aware of the passerby. "No, I didn't, because it didn't matter."

"It matters to _me._"

"Oh, jeez, you're a stubborn one, aren't you?" Fai sighed. "I really hate the stubborn ones, but that's because I'm stubborn myself. For instance, you can keep asking me why I didn't report you, and I'm not going to answer." That infuriating smile flashed again. "Here's a thought, Kuro-pu!"

"That's not –"

"_Maybe _I didn't report you because the thought of you waking up to find you still had your job and your perfectly normal life, knowing you didn't deserve it and always wondering _why _I never turned you in, driving you crazy, _amused _me. Maybe I'm waiting until you forget all about it, during a particularly slow news week, when the papers are just dying for some NYPD slip-up, and _then _I'm going to stroll down to the precinct and tell them all about what Lieutenant Suwa's gets up to in the park when he's bored."

Kurogane studied his face carefully, letting the silence between them grow even as the city continued to exist in a cacophony of sound around them. He stared into those impossibly beautiful eyes and felt his free hand twitch with the strange desire to reach out and tuck the strand of hair that had escaped from his pony tail back behind his ear. He held himself still, his throat suddenly tighter.

"You're a liar."

It struck home; Fai paled and said nothing.

"I made a mistake – that was the only time I ever did something so…" He couldn't find the right word; maybe there wasn't one. He spoke quietly, forcing himself to look at that shocked face in front of him. "Not that it matters to you, but I just want you to know. I owe you my thanks…my apology…not just for not turning me in. For stopping me." _Jesus, _this was awkward.

Fai continued to stare at him without speaking. The front door of The Pipe Fox flew open and a surly youth stepped outside, frowning.

"Doumeki!" Fai's smile snapped back into place. He turned to the man and held out the bag of leaves. "One pound of African Blue, as requested. Sorry for the hold-up – I was getting caught up with a friend." He jerked his head at Kurogane.

Doumeki took the bag, looked at Fai, then Kurogane, and stared at the two of them very hard. In a flat, calm voice, he asked, "Is there a problem?"

If Watanuki was an idiot, this kid was _sharp. _Kurogane had to appreciate someone so discerning. Fai waved his hands, shaking his head vigorously. _Too _vigorously.

"No, no – really, everything is fine. Please tell Watanuki I said thank-you for the business."

Doumeki gave Kurogane another quick glance and disappeared back into the restaurant, the door swinging disdainfully shut behind him.

"African Blue? That some sort of drug?" He tried to crack a joke, hoping to keep the man in conversation just a bit longer.

Fai turned back to him, his eyes icy now. "Why, want to give me a pat-down?"

Kurogane's fist clenched at his side. He said nothing, accepting the hate that he had earned. Fai looked at the clenched jaw line; something along the edges of his own face softened. "No, it's not a drug," he muttered. "It's a variant of basil. Well –" He leapt down the steps suddenly, spinning on his boots with feline grace. Kurogane openly stared. "It's been great! You should get going – your girlfriend has been honking for the past minute."

The sound hadn't registered above the normal din of New York City; Kurogane looked up and saw that Souma had parked the police car in the street again, laying on the horn. Fai grasped the top bars of the Jeep and pulled his long legs up over the driver side window, grinning at him. "So long! Too bad we'll never see each other again!" The engine roared to life, and the Jeep sped away.

Kurogane was still staring after it when Souma pulled into the empty spot, visibly cursing at him through the window.

* * *

He saw him again that night.

Once, on the worst night of his life, Yuuko had gripped his younger self's shoulder tightly, her lips pulling down into a frown without the slightest hint of her usual sensuality, and spoken to him not as a child, but as a man. "There's no such thing as coincidence," she had said, and with a sickening certainty, he had believed her.

And this, well…this really beat the odds. He'd gone from not seeing the previously unnamed guy (_Fai, _he had thought, over and over) in two weeks to seeing him twice in one day.

"Clock out at six, Kurogane," Yuuko had told him.

"_Six?_"

"Oh, don't look at me like I told you to go jump off a bridge." Yuuko leaned forward, her bosom threatening to spill out of her dangerously unbuttoned uniform. "It's Friday. Don't you have some hot young stud waiting for you somewhere? No, then again, _you'd _be the hot young stud, and –"

"Cut it out," he snapped. "You don't give a shit about my love life."

"_Lack _of love life," she corrected.

"And how would you know!"

"Because I've never met someone half as wound up as you." He'd visibly frozen; Yuuko was looking at him slyly in a way that made his skin crawl, like she had some sort of sixth sense and knew everything about him. "Well, Watanuki might give you a run for your money," she said evenly, continuing on with a devious gleam in her eyes. "So why don't you take the evening off and go out to a bar or something. Meet someone. Get an attitude adjustment."

His arms crossed over his chest indignantly. "You can't afford to pay me overtime for the week so you're sending me home early."

"_Kurogane!_" Yuuko slammed her fists down onto her desk in annoyance, her breasts jostling with the force. "_Why _do you have to ruin the mood! It's not like _I _control the budget cuts!"

"Figures." The whole department got a good look at him as he stormed out the door.

He had thought to go straight home and drink, alone, in his living room when a thought occurred to him; Tomoyo had been especially caring the last two weeks, sensing something was wrong. He had plenty of time to stop by her favorite bakery and get her some of those ridiculous cupcakes she liked; her birthday was next week, but it seemed stupid to wait and do something nice for her – he'd just as soon get her something again next Friday. It would be tempting to park his police car in front of the cupcake place she liked, Magnolia, and rush in, but the line was usually out the door anyways. He wouldn't mind the walk, though – it's give him a chance to clear his head.

He had to park down by the Rockefeller Center, which, considering it was Friday night, wasn't too bad, and a crisp early-spring wind was picking up. The flags around the ice-rink were snapping in the wind as he walked past, the ice bathed in the glow of the lights around the surrounding trees, casting a man-made aurora down on the skaters below. The rink would be open for another week or two in March, and the residents of New York City were taking full advantage of it.

Kobato was working behind the counter; the Magnolia bakery existed in its own little world of pastels, and the high schooler fit right in. She looked up when he came inside, her face flushed with the effort of serving the long line of customers.

"Kurogane!" The patrons' eyes swung at him, with more than a few narrowing. He walked pointedly to the back of the line: Magnolia's cupcakes were legendary…and in high demand. Police officers didn't get special privileges, not on this sacred ground.

"Hey," he greeted her. Kobato had rushed to the back of the line, straining on her toes to peek over the counter.

"Hi!" Even busied, her face beamed with joy. "Tomoyo didn't call in an order. Is this a surprise? I never see you around here much!"

Kobato never forgot a face…even if he wished she would. The patrons had turned around again, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I'm not in a rush." He lowered his voice, trying to take out some of the gruffness; Kobato had shrunk at his tone. "When it's my turn, do me a favor and give me half a dozen of the kind Tomoyo likes. Do an assortment."

Twenty minutes later he was walking back through the city blocks, the box in his hands, the ice rink glowing in front of him. The wind had picked up now, a biting reminder of the winter that had just passed and the spring that was yet to fully come.

_There's no such thing as coincidence. _

He didn't know why he paused; it wasn't as if he had ever gone ice skating himself, or had any interest in it, but all the same, he had stopped at the top of the rink and looked down, watching the lazy circle of skaters in their endless repetition around the rink, and his gaze fell immediately upon him.

It was the ponytail; Fai's hair lifted away from behind him, and with the wind catching his bangs and pulling them back, he could see for the first time, even from this distance, his full eyes. He'd changed his clothes: new jeans, clean, a slimming black peacoat, and of all things…blue earmuffs. It was ridiculous.

_God, _his legs were long. Maybe in a past life the guy had been a spider; Kurogane knew he was taller than the guy (he remembered the way he had leaned down, breathing in his scent in Central Park), but he seemed like all limbs and thin body. He spun a sharp corner, cut out into the middle of the rink, and then launched into the air, the ponytail whipping behind him as he pirouetted, and landed smartly back down on the ice. Kurogane wished his peacoat didn't go down to his thighs – it would have been nice to watch those rear muscles contract and –

Fai fell backward onto the ice, legs spilling out under him as two small girls each rushed out at him, breaking form the circle. They threw identical arms around his neck, long, blonde hair – nearly as long as their bodies – settling around them. Little pink earmuffs were pressed down on their heads, and Fai broke into a laughing smile, hugging them both to his chest. Kurogane watched as he helped the girls, probably somewhere around seven or eight, stand back up first, then climbed up to his feet. They began pointing back at the ice exit, and Fai listened, nodded, and took one hand in each of his, skating with them back to the rental facility.

He knew he was probably making a mistake, but the fact of the matter was that the rink was a rectangle, and it didn't matter if he went right or left: he still had to go around it. It just so happened to be that if he walked around the left, he'd pass by the entrance, and if someone were to be walking out the exit…

_After this, he WILL report you. Is that what you want? _No, he didn't want to lose his job, but…maybe he felt like he owed something to him. _You can't stand the thought of someone thinking of you that way, _he thought, and knew it was true. He was better than the person he had almost been in Central Park, and for whatever reason, he wanted Fai to know that. Maybe it was a convenient way to make himself feel better about his previous transgression, but that was part of the learning-and-living process, or so he reasoned. Either way, as Fai came out of the ice skating rink, a twin girl on each hand, he knew he had something to prove and found himself oddly flustered and annoyed by the truth. It was possible he was oddly flustered and annoyed by the way Fai's cheeks were flushed an attractive pink, or the way his earmuffs were now cutely pulled down around his neck, but more probably, the truth.

"Hey."

Fai looked up sharply; the pink in his cheeks drained away, his breath sucking in, and Kurogane suddenly felt like an idiot: it was one thing to meet Fai by sheer coincidence in the middle of the day, in the middle of New York City. It was another to meet him again, at night, while he was with kids – maybe even _his _kids, after such a bad meeting that afternoon. He kicked himself mentally for not realizing how fucking _stalkerish_ he had just managed to come off; the hand that he had raised in greeting fell down lamely by his side.

The little girl on the left tugged at Fai's arm, and Kurogane glanced down; both twins still wore their pink earmuffs, protruding from the side of their heads. Fai followed his gaze, tightening his grip on the girls. "Fai! You know a police officer?"

Kurogane grinned a little; she sounded awestruck.

"Fai!" The second twin tugged on his other hand, looking at the box the officer held. "Can you ask him if we can have a cupcake?"

They were looking up at him eagerly. _If they called him Fai, he can't be the dad, _he thought. Fai's face fought for control. A wooden smile appeared.

"I don't know, girls, he probably doesn't want to share…"

"'Course I do." He shrugged his massive shoulders and crouched down, opening the box. Fai looked at him with the poison of a cobra holding himself back from striking. "Take one each."

They let go of Fai's hand and rushed forward, gazing into the box. A vanilla bean and a chocolate cupcake disappeared into each little hand, and they looked up at him now in outright admiration.

"Is that a gun?"

"Uh huh."

The second twin stared, amazed. "Have you ever shot someone?"

_Well, shit. _How was he supposed to answer _that_?

"He only shoots bad guys." Fai pulled both of them back to him, a firm grip on each of their shoulders, and led them to a nearby bench. "Girls, sit here and eat your cupcakes. Uncle Fai wants to talk to his friend. _Don't _move."

"But _Fai _–"

"If you don't move," he said, smiling disarmingly, "I'll take you up to the Lego store." He pointed at the building above the Rockefeller. "And if you stay _perfectly _still, I'll even get you both something."

The girl's remained seated, complacently eating their cupcakes as Fai turned and walked toward him, his smile falling away. Kurogane stood up as he came forward, bracing himself.

Fai's words came out in a furious hiss. "I don't know what kind of shit you're trying to pull," he began, "But you're really making me regret not turning you in. What did you do, follow me _all day? _And you waited for this moment to harass me while I'm with my family – for what? Are you going to threaten them and tell me if I don't keep quiet something bad will happen?" Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, something _real. _"Believe me – that won't work. Better men have tried."

Kurogane didn't have time to question what he meant. "Hold up – I didn't stalk you."

"It certainly looks that way."

"That actually just occurred to me." He ran a hand through his short hair, surprised to find himself suddenly unnerved. "It's not like that. It was just –"

"A coincidence?"

"There's no such thing as coincidence."

The words came out of his mouth before he was aware of it. Fai just stared back at him, his eyes still narrowed.

"Then what do you want?"

What _did _he want? _I don't want you to think about me as some sort of would-be rapist, because I'm not and it's fucking driving me crazy that I'm a goddamn idiot who made one fucked up mistake – and I don't even know why I care what you think! _He roared in his mind, furious and indignant, but he knew, all the same, what bothered him. His father had been a police officer, and a good one – one of the best. There were bad officers, corrupt officers, power-hungry, arrogant, violent officers…and every one of those men out there ruined the reputation of the good, hard-working ones…like his father had been. The thought that he had joined that foul camp, even in the mind of a single person, stung him. It was more than just shaming himself; he felt as though he had dishonored the person he had loved most with his actions.

He wanted to say all that, to find a way to tell this complete stranger those words and change his perception of him, right the wrong he had committed and finally get a good night of sleep, but instead, when his mouth opened, all he managed was, "…Can I have your number?"

"Can you – can you have my number?" They stared at each other, equally shocked.

Kurogane had the sudden urge to unholster his gun and shoot himself. _Of every fucking thing I could have said… _No point in backing down now. He straightened up a little taller, but the affect wasn't what he had hoped for; Fai took a nervous step back, blinking at him.

"I was thinking, maybe…we could get a drink."

Something clicked in Fai's mind. The shocked expression fell away into a smug grin. "I think I get it now. Tell me if I'm wrong: Boy meets boy. Force doesn't work, so boy No. 1 decides to try to seduce boy No. 2, because the thought of an unfinished conquest leaves boy No. 1 feeling very unfulfilled."

"The fuck? No, that's not –"

"No? So let me try again, Kuro-chi."

"My name –"

"I give you my number, you give me yours. I take my nieces home; later, we text. Meet up at a bar. You buy me drinks, try to make it up to me, the whole, 'Hey, I'm a really nice guy when I'm not abusing my power' spiel, and we end up back at your apartment, or mine – maybe even a hotel. Oh, I think I've seen this movie before!" He clapped his hands together, grinning wildly now, and Kurogane was aware that he was being mocked in that horribly _unmocking _tone. The twins, watching but not hearing what he was saying, giggled. "At first, it'll be awkward – small talk, you know. You'll have some extra liquor, or maybe I do…wait, no, I'm all out, so we'd better go back to your place – and we both proceed to get drunk, just drunk enough for you to make a move without feeling awkward about it, because, well, you know – you've got a _hard _first date to follow up on. Anyways, we'll screw, say our goodbyes in the morning, and never see each other again. That's the plan, right?"

Kurogane said nothing. He stared past Fai's defenses and saw the bristling, scared person putting up a front to the world, and doing a damn good job of it. He saw those people every day at work…and he pitied him, hating himself at the same time for contributing, in some way, to the façade of a person before him.

Fai gave him a playful punch to the shoulder, all smiles. "Tell you what: I hate long movies. Let's skip right to the part where we never see each other again."

"Fai –"

"Don't. Don't you _dare._" For a moment, that flash of something real and menacing returned. Fai turned away from him. "I'm not going to report you – and no, I'm not going to tell you why. Just…leave me _alone._ New York City is big enough," he said, his voice quiet now, drifting away on the chill wind. "Two people should be able to avoid each other, right?" He walked away, calling back to the twins. "Chise! Chiho! Let's get you girls some toys."

The girls turned and waved at him with their free hands as Fai walked with them up to the Lego store above the Rockefeller center, never so much as glancing back at the man he had left standing by the edge of the rink.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The Pipe Fox is, obviously, not a real restaurant in NYC – Magnolia, however, is a real cupcake bakery! I know it's a bit of a debate, but I prefer Crumbs' cupcakes. *braces for flames for taking a side in the NYC cupcake war* Kobato isn't in Tsubasa, of course, and neither (technically) is Chise and Chiho, but the twins are an alternate universe version of Elda and Freya, reborn as humans (everyone lucks out sometimes, it seems) so they sort of count as far as being part of the Tsubasa universe (I think all CLAMP counts). They're too cute; how could I not put them in? Hope you like it so far, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **As always, thank you for your reviews and time! **Uakari**, you must have misread my ***demand*** for your porn as a suggestion... As for slogging into Manhattan, given the choice between heading into New York or Philly for the day, I choose Philly *braces for hatemail from the Manhattanites***** but, to be fair, nothing beats the Bronx (bitches be making some good hot dogs out there, I'll tell you what). **Thanks Reikah**! I really wanted to write a nicer Kurogane-centered fic and head in a very different direction from what I've done before, so I hope I don't disappoint, but no spoilers! **Thanks** **xwittychickx! **Yes, there are tons of CLAMP cameos in this, just hold on a tic (next chapter when the plot gets underway, the cast rushes in!) I apologize for the grammatical slip-ups here and there; I _promise _I do reread and edit, but I don't have a beta, so mistakes get through, but thank you for your patience! (What's that, you're bored and want to beta for Bacchus and deal with her strange sentence constructions and love of the dash! GIVE ME YOUR SOUL) **Thanks, TheGoth24!** I just hope you love it when it's done! As always, **thanks, zelinxia**! But, as to your musings...HMM, I won't tell! Random parts are always my favorites as well. **Thank you, renlylittlerose **for always being so incredibly supportive, and **thank you also to MindlessAdri; **you were right about my intending to post on the 25th, but I got the first two chapters up earlier than expected (I was a little too excited and I love this fic). So glad you're liking it so far! **Thank you all again** for reading; please enjoy!

* * *

There was some sort of law of physics or superstition – damned if he could remember what it was called – that dictated that once you became aware of something, you'd see it everywhere, like if, on some television program, you heard an interesting word not of common usage – 'ennui,' perhaps – the next thing you knew, it was as if _everyone _was using that word. In fact, nothing had changed, but having been made aware of the new oddity, your brain picked up on it now with a startling frequency.

"Law of _physics?_ Oh, Kurogane, _no._" Yuuko handed him a pile of casework on Monday. "It's called the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon."

Whatever it was called, it was _working. _

Fai had been wrong: it _was _difficult not to run into someone in New York City. Repeatedly.

The first incident happened on Monday morning, following so swiftly on the heels of the disastrous Friday-night encounter that Kurogane hardly registered what had happened. He'd gone to pick up breakfast for himself and Souma in Astoria, where he lived, a little further out from the city. He was just coming out of the diner with two pitas stuffed with feta cheese and steaming vegetables when another person strolled out Lefkos Pyrgos Greek bakery across the street.

His hair was pulled back, a detail that Kurogane decided was the way he normally wore it, and the officer wondered briefly what he would look like if he let his long hair fall loose around him. _Pretty, probably. _His ponytail fell neatly between his shoulder blades. The ridiculously high black boots were back, accompanied by another pair of skinny jeans, but with the slightly warmer weather, his peacoat had disappeared in favor of a black, long sleeve shirt, over which he had looped a white scarf. Fai held a small, Tiffany-blue box in his hand, which he proceeded to rip open and fish out a wedge of baklava from. Kurogane watched, frozen to the spot, as the blond bit into the baklava and proceeded to suck the honey from his lips, strolling down the street. Fai hadn't noticed him, but the image of his tongue running along his bottom lip, teeth dragging it in, stuck with him even when he was out on patrol.

He couldn't prove anything, but on Tuesday, around 2 p.m., he was distinctly aware of the feeling that he was being watched as a man cursed him out in Italian, gesturing wildly to his shattered storefront; someone had robbed him, and filing a police report was proving to be difficult. Kurogane listened to the man's ramblings, waiting for something to click and make sense (nothing had, yet), and tried to ignore the prickling feeling on the back of his neck. Finally, it got the better the better of him. Kurogane looked up, scanned the crowd of faces that had gathered around the broken glass, and thought he caught a glimpse of a ponytail disappearing hastily around the block.

On Wednesday, Yuuko decided she wanted burgers for a late lunch. Kurogane was already in the area, what with Souma calling out sick, so ducking out of her request wasn't even an option.

"Get them from the Shake Shack," she begged over the telephone. "_Please_?"

The squat shack sat just past Park Ave in the Upper East Side, and while its wares were definitely in the running for Best Burger in the Big Apple, the line to actually _get _one was always, at least, a half hour wait…outside. Kurogane had been rained and snowed on more than once to satisfy Yuuko's food cravings.

"I'm sick of picking up your lunch!" The people in front of him in the line turned and looked at him curiously, then politely went back to staring straight ahead, eyes transfixed on the burger shack. He lowered his voice to an annoyed growl. "There are _plenty _of detectives and officers ranked below me who should be doing this. You need to get a fucking intern!"

"I can't fuck interns," she answered back, matter-of-factly. Kurogane could practically see her in her office right now, legs propped up over the desk (and, most likely, if no one was around, _smoking, _against building code), a coy, teasing grin spread across her face. "It's against regulations."

"You know what I meant."

"You know, I _could _use an intern. I wish Watanuki wasn't working at his own place, he'd have been great at the job…" A dramatic sigh sounded on the other end of the phone. "I want the Portobello burger today, Kurogane. _Do _be a dear and get it with fries, won't you?"

He snapped the phone shut, huffing.

"Girlfriend troubles?"

He turned around, not quite believing that voice belonged to who he thought it belonged to.

Fai stood directly behind him in line, looking sheepish, uncomfortable…and hungry. He was wearing the same brown, soiled work apron from when Kurogane saw him last week at The Pipe Fox, gloves and shears in the front pocket, hair pulled back but swiftly falling forward.

"My superior," he answered slowly, eyeing him suspiciously.

Fai shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets, and set about to scanning the sky, whistling to himself.

Kurogane turned around, moved two steps forward in the line, then felt his resolve to ignore Fai crumble away.

"You must really want a burger."

"Well, I figured we could pretend not to know each other and wait patiently in line. No big deal, right?" Fai flashed a smile at him; Kurogane looked him full in the face now, noticing how his cheeks were smudged with dirt.

"We do know each other."

"Not really." Fai whistled again, then grabbed the edges of his apron, shaking off some excess dirt. His T-shirt ended halfway down his arm, revealing more of the tattoo; judging by the length of the design and the width it was probably quite large.

"What's your tattoo of?"

He was trying to make small talk; he felt every bit as uncomfortable as Fai, but once again, he was aware (too late) of his mistake. Fai froze his fidgeting, suddenly aware of Kurogane's gaze on his skin, and visibly stiffened.

When he answered, his voice was overly friendly. "Oh, it's just a design. Nothing you'd be interested in."

_You're making him uncomfortable. _Kurogane gave a curt nod and turned back to the front, determined not to speak to him again. He was here for Yuuko's godforsaken lunch – and damn it, he wasn't picking up her meals anymore, _fuck _it, and frankly, he discovered, it was draining to have someone look at you with eyes that labeled you as a Predator with a capital 'P.'

Fifteen minutes of uncomfortable, choking silence passed.

"How long have you been a cop?"

"Eight years," he answered automatically, then paused. Fai had just asked him a question…well, that was on him, then. Kurogane remained staring forward, his back to the man. If the only way Fai would talk to him was to his back, Kurogane was happy to keep staring at the order window.

"I'll bet you get to do all kinds of exciting things!"

Maybe he was trying to bait him into saying something really incriminating? _Why, because he needs more evidence against you? _"Not often."

"_Some_times? Maybe?"

"You might think they're exciting things," he offered, shrugging to no one. "I think they're unfortunate."

Fai didn't reply to that, and Kurogane didn't turn around to see his face. He grew lost in thought, curious about the man behind him and knowing better than to ask any of the questions on his mind as the line moved slowly forward, up to the order window.

"Kuro-pu –"

"My name –"

A finger, playful and light, poked him in the small of his back. "It's your turn to order."

Kurogane couldn't help it; he glanced back at Fai. The guy was smiling at him like a creep, pointing now at the order window.

Ten minutes later they were both waiting on the other side of the building for the burgers to be ready, standing side-by-side and doing a decent job of pretending the other didn't exist.

They called Kurogane's name first. Impulse spurred him, because, well…_there was no such thing as coincidence. _He snatched up a napkin, yanked out a pen, and jotted his cell number down.

"Here."

Fai grinned. "Oh, boy, I think we've done this before. What is it this time? Your contact info?"

Flustered, he snorted, looking away. "Yea."

"Oh! Well look at that!" Fai burst into a laugh, a light, airy sound that a man could get drunk on. Kurogane's blood raced, embarrassed. "Well, Kuro-chi, that's nice of you and all, but I'm not going to call you."

"I know."

"So…why?" Fai picked up his order from the window, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Kurogane rolled his eyes. "I don't get to ask you why – why's it different for you?"

"You're a big, mean one, aren't you?" Fai laughed again, crumpled up the napkin with his phone number in it, and tossed it into the trash. "Let's never see each other again, okay?"

His pride wounded, annoyed and embarrassed, Kurogane snapped back at him. "Deal!"

He left the weirdo standing there, a slightly shocked expression on his face, as Kurogane walked hurriedly away.

* * *

He didn't see Fai on Thursday, but damned if he couldn't stop thinking about him. The only thing that interrupted his string of stinging self-reproach was when an emergency call came in from the station around 4 p.m., calling all units back to the precinct.

Yuuko was smoking in the debriefing room as the officers piled in; she preferred to use a cigarette holder, like an exotic version of Audrey Hepburn ala _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. The regulations were strictly against smoking in the building, but if she was sitting there on top of the desk, legs crossed, dragging at the cigarette on the end of that long, black pipe and exhaling, that could only mean one thing: something big. Something messy…something, as Fai would say, Kurogane thought, 'exciting.'

She'd been smoking on the night his father was killed.

Kusanagi greeted him as he and Souma took a seat, nodding their way. He pointed at Yuuko with one hand, shook his head as if to say "That's bad news," and then settled back, waiting. Beside him, Yuzuriha, his partner, sat, her short hair framing a face that housed two sharp, determined eyes. She was a K-9 handler, but Inuki, her German Shepherd, wasn't with her at the moment. Yuzuriha had made a name for herself with her sharp-shooting skills; rather than carry a Glock 19, she used a Smith and Wesson, standard issue model 5946, which she favored because of the adjustable sights. Her shooting accuracy was the highest among them. ("The deck is stacked," Kusanagi, her partner, had complained. "Women have lower muscle density in their forearms, gives 'em a steadier aim." Kurogane didn't know why it mattered to him; Kusanagi's sidearm was a standard issue SIG Sauer: a bullet from that gun would most likely kill you no matter where it hit, or at the very least, make you wish you were dead). Behind them, the youngest member on the force, Miyuki, fidgeted. Kurogane was wholly against her appointment – she was a slip of a girl, just out of the academy, but she was good for going under cover (come to think of it, he'd seen her at least twice – or was it three times? – in the past few weeks, out in plains clothes while on the job). Souma had once teased him about being overly protective of the younger members of the squad, which was probably true – but what heartless bastard _wouldn't _be protective of a little girl dressing up like a hooker to bust drug runners?

When the room was full after everyone else filed in, Yuuko motioned for the doors to be shut. The smoke hung in the air, creating a hazy mist as she set her pipe down, rising to her feet.

"Thank you for your attention," she began, and that coy, gleaming, teasing air about her was completely gone: Yuuko stood at attention, in a perfect state of tranquil calm, and spoke to her men and women. "We've had some important developments with an old case this morning, developments that have been verified by a number of our informants."

Uniformed officers weren't allowed to know the identity of police informants; there was always the risk that an officer could turn and sell them out, getting them killed. Kurogane had once stumbled upon the identity of one of the top informants for Yuuko, a mysterious man named Saiga whose eyes he had never glimpsed, and had signed enough paperwork to give him a hand cramp affirming to never reveal the man's identity and had since never seen him again. Saiga (Kurogane didn't know his last name, and knew he never would) was only one of a network of informants, plants, undercovers, or rats (as they were called on the streets) the precincts used and coordinated with.

Yuuko's eyes swept over them, lingering on Kurogane for a moment, and then she spoke.

"We've had a break in the Reed case."

He forgot about Fai in the instant the sentence ended; Kurogane's head snapped up, staring at her now with renewed intensity. Around them, the officers stirred uneasily. The man known as Fei-Wang Reed ran a very successful business – "human interest," it was recorded he had once joked, of human trafficking – sometimes living, sometimes dead. He was the head of a massive underground network housed out of Manhattan that kidnapped anyone from children to adults, selling them for whatever pleasure his clients wanted, be it sex, organs, or labor. Kurogane didn't need to be debriefed; he already knew all the details, having seen the paperwork and case files littered about the house as a young teenager.

His father always brought his work home.

"It's been years since we've had any developments of note, anything we could grab onto with a solid grip and make something of," Yuuko continued. "Over the next few days I'll be assembling a small team from our precinct that will be assisting in the formal investigation that is to follow; as the information we have presently gathered is sensitive in nature, I will disclose it to those of you selected at that time. This meeting is to merely make you aware of some structural changes that will be happening within the ranks and why. However, even if you are not selected, I want all of you to be on your best behavior and at the top of your game – we've managed to keep this case to ourselves for some time now, and with it reopening, I do _not _want to lose it to the FBI, even if their eventual involvement may be inevitable. We've had our finest men and women on this case for more than a decade, and we've lost brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers along the way." Kurogane felt her eyes flick at him for a moment. "I want to see us be the one to take him down. I trust that you will all act accordingly – you're dismissed."

Kurogane waited until everyone else had left. Yuuko picked back up her pipe, enjoying another quiet inhale.

"I'm on the team."

"_I _decide who'll be on the team," she corrected. "And I don't know if having someone so personally affected by it would be such a good idea. It might cloud your judgment."

"It won't."

Yuuko's eyes fell on him, and her gaze looked straight through his badge and into his heart. "Are you telling me you've never had any lapses in judgment, Kurogane?"

He stiffened and drew himself up as tall as possible, fists clenching. "If I were to say that, I'd be lying. I've made mistakes…but I've learned from them."

"But have you learned _enough_?"

"I've learned enough for this. Put me on the case."

"It's Tomoyo's birthday on Saturday, isn't it?" She drew out a business card from her shirt pocket, handing it to him. "Go here and get her some flowers from me, would you? They have the _best _flowers. She's such a sweet girl." Her eyes, thoughtful, turned away, staring out at the city.

And with that, he knew the conversation was ended.

* * *

He wanted to believe that Yuuko hadn't set him up, because that would be, quite frankly, an insane thought, but what were the odds that Yuuko kept the business card of her favorite plant nursery in her uniform pocket all the time?

The Flower Shop, plainly named and located north of Canal Street in Hudson Square, was a small, two story building sitting comfortably among the greenery near Spring Street, the glittering office buildings and skyscrapers of New York hovering down the block like parents rearing over the smaller buildings along the way. The place was sweltering, with huge glass windows in the downstairs pouring sunlight into the bottom floor of the nursery, providing light and sustenance for a variety of exotic plants. Prize orchids unfurled in majestic shades of purple near signs that asked customers to politely refrain from touching the petals because yes, they were real. The tiger lilies rose arrogantly up from individual pots, which was unusual; he was used to seeing plants in those little black, plastic containers, easy for travel, but each of the flowers and shrubs here were potted in permanent homes, ready to be whisked away to new lives with new keepers. Pathways had been made between the rows of plants, like small nature trails in this domestic jungle in the heart of New York City, and everywhere bags of potting soil and mulch were stacked up like some sort of benign World War I trench reenactment.

He was standing near a large bed of prominent hosta, their waxy leaves gleaming down the center with a yellow streak, when he heard the sound of someone stopping dead in their tracks.

Kurogane looked up, equally shocked.

Fai was staring at him, open-mouthed, his work apron on.

_That fucking witch, _he thought. It was really, really hard to believe Yuuko hadn't set him up, even if there was no way – _no possible way – _she could have ever known about all of the non-coincidence that had been plaguing him lately.

"_What _are you doing here?" Fai took a step forward, one wiry, gloved arm bunching into a fist. "Do you think this is some sort of game we're playing? Because _I'm _not playing."

"Wait." He held up his hand, still holding the card; Fai snatched the business card out of it, inspecting it.

"So you found out where I work. Good for you. I'll bet –"

"_Christ, _give it a break," he sighed. "My Chief told me to come here. Said the flowers were…the best."

Fai stared at him icily. "The flowers are on the second floor."

He cocked his head to the orchids and lilies. "Why are those down here, then?"

"The sunlight is more indirect at this hour on the first floor."

"You work here?"

"I _own _here."

Kurogane waited for the instruction to get the hell out, but when it didn't come, he walked past him briskly, looking past the leafy foliage to the staircase in the back. He could hear Fai's boots clicking on the floor as he followed him upstairs.

A massive terrace stood in the center of the room, winding all the way up to the glass ceiling. Around it, rose bushes grew upward, their thorny vines snaking up as their flowers bloomed, filling the air with their delicate perfume. The second floor, a veritable green house, swelteringly hot, was more neatly arranged in vertical rows according to color; red began at one end of the room (poppies, roses) and ended in dark, nearly black purple at the other ends (a black iris rose elegantly above its many leaves, unfurling with exotic allure). In the back, horizontal rows of herbs and vegetables stretched, the fragrant smell of basil and rosemary clinging to the air. Kurogane could appreciate herbs: you _did _something with them, after all. They were useful. Flowers, on the other hand…_eh_.

"Is there something in particular you're looking for?" Fai's voice was still edged with fury. Kurogane decided it was best to hurry up and be on his way.

He turned to him and shrugged. "I need to get flowers. It's my cousin's birthday tomorrow."

"What kind does she like?"

Hell, he didn't know. Kobato, down at Magnolia, kept track of what kind of cupcakes Tomoyo liked. Even Watanuki at The Pipe Fox remembered to give him a to-go bag for Tomoyo whenever he left his monthly drinking bouts there, and after two years, he had no idea what was in it. Left on his own, Kurogane hesitated.

"Something…pretty."

Fai sized him up, determined he wasn't trying to fuck with him, and sighed, rolling his eyes. "Does she work?"

"Why?"

Blue eyes narrowed. "So I can pick out something good and get you out of my shop."

Kurogane was happy to assist him. "She's a seamstress. She works normal hours."

"Does she bring her work home?"

Well, he didn't really know that, either. Tomoyo was always in _his _apartment…not so much in hers. He worked odd hours, so he didn't really know if she was the type to come home and keep working at something on her own time. Fai endured his silence with increasing impatience.

"You at _least _know her name, don't you, Kuro-tan?"

"Yes. I'm good with names, _Fai…_unlike you. It's _Kurogane._"

"You got me – I'm terrible with names. What did you say your chief's name was?"

"I didn't."

"Hm." Fai shrugged and began to stroll down his flower aisles; Kurogane followed behind like a surly dog, glancing from section to section. Fai finally stopped and drew out his shears, crouching down in front of a large plant.

"Easter lilies. It's early for them to be in bloom, but I knew I could get them to open up early." Fai began clipping at the thick, waxy stalks of the large flowers that reared up like white trumpets. Kurogane watched him work, interested; a bead of sweat slid down his face, trailing a clean track behind it as it slipped through the dirt on his skin. He balanced neatly on his toes, laying each stalk carefully across his thighs so that the flowers themselves were never touched.

"Half of those haven't bloomed." Kurogane pointed at the long, thin bulbs still tightly shut up. He figured Fai was trying to cheat him out of his money.

"That's not how lilies work," he answered. "You take them home and wait. They bloom on their own time. They'll last longer so she can enjoy them for at least two weeks, otherwise they're just wilting while she's at work."

"Oh."

He followed Fai back down the stairs, over near the counter. The gardener wrapped the lilies up in plastic; Kurogane paid in cash and hesitated, not sure what to say or do now.

"You grow basil for Watanuki?"

Fai leaned over the counter, digging his elbows into the top, and rested his chin on his curled fists. "I make a _killing _at it, too. You can charge him anything and he'll pay it!" He grinned.

Kurogane frowned.

Fai's smile fell away at his lackluster response. "I'm just teasing. Do you know how expensive it is to grow basil in the winter? My electricity bills go through the roof. I once had inspectors come out – they thought I was running a grow house based on my shop's energy output! You can imagine how disappointed the Narc team was when they came upstairs to find hoards of organic basil, which, you'll be happy to know, sells more per ounce in January and February in New York City than _pot!_"

Kurogane's eyes narrowed. "How would you know how much pot sells for?"

Fai straightened up and gave him the once over. "Try not to smile too much, it'll make you look nicer."

He snorted. "I'm only kidding. I'll bet they were pissed."

"You have no idea. I even had the back of the upstairs lined in tin foil, to increase the light refraction – it's good for rosemary, too – and they were convinced I was Up To No Good. _Me! _Can you imagine?" He spread his arms wide, grinning.

Kurogane stared at his twiggy frame and laughed.

The sound startled Fai; he dropped his arms to his sides and stared in half-amazement, half distrust at the officer. "The real question is, if I _was _running a grow house, would you turn me in?"

"That depends – do you have time to blackmail me first?"

The joke hung between them, and Kurogane watched Fai's face as the edges of his mouth contorted into the faintest, genuine smile that he was wrestling with to control and kill. When he spoke again, he changed the subject, preferring to keep the officer on his toes rather than let him get too comfortable. "You always wear your uniform? We've run into each other a couple of times now, and no matter what the hour is, you're always in it."

Kurogane shrugged. "I've only run into you when I'm working."

"I'll bet you look like a normal person out of it."

It hadn't occurred to him that the uniform was part of the reason he kept getting a less-than-warm response from Fai…then again, if he were Fai, he'd be giving himself a less-than-warm response anyways, coupled with a restraining order. "I'm off work tonight," he said, a little too easily to be _genuinely _too easy. "Want to get a drink?"

Fai grinned. "I don't think hanging out with a bunch of off-duty cops is really my thing."

"I don't go out with my co-workers," he said. Well, once a month he did, but that didn't count – that was a matter of _pride, _not sociability.

Fai pulled off his work gloves, his hands clean and white compared to the rest of him. "So, what – just you and me?" Fai laughed at him. "Don't you have any friends you'd rather spend time with?"

The hollowness itched from within, and he suddenly felt embarrassed and angry.

"Forget it." He picked up the bouquet of lilies and walked out without saying goodbye.

After all, the way things were going, he'd most likely see him again sometime soon.

* * *

_Unknown number: You ever been to Fuuma's?_

Kurogane stared at his cell phone, frowning at it. The lilies were sitting in a pot of water, the best he could manage for a vase. Every person he knew was programmed into his cell phone, and he'd only given his number out to one person who _wasn't _in there…but Fai had thrown the napkin away.

_Not before looking at it, _he remembered.

_No, _he texted back.

Five minutes passed; it was close to 9:30 in the evening now, and Kurogane was just growing used to the idea of spending the rest of it alone. Now his heart was beating too fast, his training instincts kicking in to remind him that this whole thing was suspicious.

The light on his phone came on. He flipped it open.

_In the theatre district, but not near the commercial block. The bar is on the fourth floor. Still want to get a drink?_

So it was definitely Fai. Kurogane's throat tightened, his fingers fumbling with the phone (_fucking small thing! _He thought) as he managed a response.

_Sure. Will be there in an hour._

It was surreal, he thought as he dressed, pulling on dark jeans and a black button-down shirt. He hesitated in the doorway to his apartment; maybe this was a joke. He'd drag his ass out all the way down to some shady bar he'd never been to only to find it a giant waste of his time. He'd get a text later – tomorrow, maybe – something like, _Hah! Got you good, didn't I, Kuro-pu? _and then he's throw the phone out the window and redouble his efforts to avoid all of his favorite eateries, never buy flowers again, and tell Yuuko to go fuck herself and get her own lunch.

In the off chance it wasn't a set-up, Kurogane locked his door behind him and flagged down a cab, hoping he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt.

* * *

Fuuma's bar had a staircase that encouraged its patrons not to get shit-faced; old, decaying, and wooden, it had somehow yet to be visited by a building inspector and _condemned. _The staircase zig-zagged up to the fourth floor of the building, up above the lights and people of New York City, and finally led to a small entrance to a place that had probably been sued half a dozen times or more by health insurance companies. If at least one person hadn't managed to break their legs on that stairway, Kurogane was damned.

It was hard to tell if some places were busy before you walked in; outside of Fuuma's, the normal buzzing of the city hummed in his ears, but as soon as the door swung open, a world of sound enveloped him. Stretching from the front door all the way to the back of the front room was a bar worth writing home about; more liquor bottles of every sort were stacked upon seven long shelves than Kurogane could begin to count. The dim lights caught on the different colored glasses (blues, oranges, bronzes, silvers) and made them shimmer with enticing beauty. People jostled the bar, laughing and slipping dollar bills to the bar tender, whose hands moved quickly to scoop them up. He was a young man, not quite Kurogane's age, with small glasses above a wide, happy smile, and if he pulled this sort of business every Friday night, he was making a _killing. _Comparatively, the slight young man working next to him behind the bar scowled at everyone and everything, as if he could imagine himself in no worse place.

The front room spread out toward the very edge of the building, where small, port-hole sized windows opened up, allowing the patrons to catch a glimpse of the city they had escaped from. A piano was in the back corner, past all of the tables and booths that had been set up, and a woman sat at it dressed in lacy lingerie, her short hair curled neatly around her shoulders. Her legs uncrossed and crossed seductively, her breasts rising as she gasped, fingers flying across the keyboard, caressing the ivories and stroking a heated tune from them.

"Karen!" The man behind the bar called out to her. "Play something fun, would you?"

"Anything for you, Fuuma!" She winked; a number of the patrons cat-called and wolf whistled, but Kurogane got the sense that it was all in good fun. He might have stopped to watch her if a small wave from across the room hadn't caught his attention.

Kurogane held his breath and forced himself to walk forward, half-stunned it wasn't a set-up. Fai was seated at a two-person table, two empty shot glasses in front of him, working on a whiskey. He wasn't wearing the ridiculous boots; in fact, he was wearing a pair of casual black pants, and the way they hung loosely down to his shoes made a man wonder at the frame underneath. Kurogane shoved the thoughts away, determined not to think about the way his pony tail was pulled forward, falling neatly just over his exposed collar bone, or the way the lights gleamed off the two silver loops in his ear. He was clean, skin polished, and white teeth flashed as he smiled, indicating for him to sit.

Kurogane settled into the chair.

Fai rested his head on his hands, grinning. "What'll it be, Kuro-pon?"

"Vodka."

"Fuuma!" Fai raised a hand, pointed at Kurogane, and grinned. "Vodka!"

Fuuma looked up, a wolfish smile on his face, and nodded.

"You must know him pretty well if you can call on the owner to serve you."

Fai laughed. "I supply Fuuma with fresh mint, so we have a business arrangement. There're a few other girls who work here, but if you want _good _vodka, you have to ask Fuuma for it."

"I didn't hear you ask for _good _vodka." Kurogane crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to understand what was happening.

Fai grinned. "I did. You just didn't hear me."

They didn't say anything until Fai shifted uncomfortably, smiling a little wider. "So! You clean up nicely, huh?"

"…I guess."

"What, don't get too many compliments? Handsome guy like you?"

Kurogane was growing increasingly uneasy; he'd heard his fair share of terrible pick-up lines, but when he tried to test the atmosphere between them, the chemistry wasn't there. There was something distinctly hands-offish about Fai, and for all his jokes and smiling, nothing about the comment came off as "let's fuck."

The other bartender stormed over, set two large vodkas down in front of Kurogane and a second whiskey in front of Fai, and stormed away.

Fai watched him go. "I'd say thanks to Kamui, but that's a lost cause."

Kurogane didn't want to talk about the bartender's hired help. "Why'd you call me out here?"

"I didn't call, I texted. And you said you wanted to get a drink." Fai looked down into his whisky, swishing it uneasily in the glass. He was suddenly very interested in everything except Kurogane.

"You come here often?"

"Sometimes. Usually I just stay home and drink."

Kurogane looked down at his vodka, slammed it back in a single throw, and set the glass neatly down on the table. "Me too."

Fai looked up, openly impressed. "You can hold you alcohol, huh?" Kurogane snorted; _that _was an understatement. Fai studied the small grin on his face and smiled tentatively back. "There's a story, huh?"

"It's my Chief." He raised his hand for another drink and found himself telling Fai about his superior, a certain Yuuko Ichihara, who had a certain affinity for alcohol. He was five glasses in, a scowling Kamui hurrying between their table and the bar all the while, by the time he came to the part about how every monthly drinking binge ended: carrying someone home, hopefully _not_ Yuuko, who would grope him, and enjoying a hangover-less Sunday.

"You don't even get a hangover? _Bullshit, _Kuro-pon!"

A pleasant tingling had started in the back of his head. Kurogane didn't even bother to correct him. He finished his sixth glass and nodded, pleased with himself. "If I've got one thing going for me, it's that. I can hold my alcohol."

Fai laughed, finished his whiskey, and stacked his glasses up next to Kurogane's. He was keeping pace, and the two of them had grown flushed. It was nearly eleven, and the bar was just getting into full swing.

"So you can outdrink…Yuuko, did you say?" Kurogane thought something flitted across Fai's eyes for a moment, but no, it had to be his imagination, or the drink. "Well, let's see if you can outdrink _me._" He held out his hand. "Want to make a bet?"

Kurogane grinned and felt the excitement of the challenge. He reached forward and grasped Fai's hand, shaking it…and didn't let go. His thumb pressed into the top of surprisingly soft skin, Fai's fingertips on the edge of his wrist, and felt his heart hammer a little more forcefully.

Fai pulled away, brushing his bangs away nervously. "Ah, look. There's something I want to say…" Kurogane uncrossed his arms, hoping to look disarming. Fai glanced at him, swallowed, then looked away, out at the city lights. "I didn't call you out here because I've got some script in my head where we both get drunk, lower our inhibitions, and then screw."

"You mentioned that movie." His voice was oddly thick. "You didn't like it."

"I don't." Blue eyes swung on him, and Kurogane was aware of the hard way they were staring, like it was costing the man a great deal of effort to force himself to look at him. "I wasn't playing hard to get. I'll sit here and drink with you, but I'm not interested in you that way. I don't want you to think this is something other than what it is, and I don't want you to try anything, or think that I'm secretly hoping you'll make a move. I'm not, and I don't want you to do that. If that's not good enough, if you were expecting something more…you should go."

Kurogane stared at him levelly, meeting his gaze. "What was it you wanted from me, then?"

Fai's eyes fell away. "Who knows? Maybe I just wanted a friend."

He snorted again. "You picked one hell of a friend."

"Look, I said if you don't –"

Kurogane raised his glass, polishing off the last of what he had. "Frankly, I'm still surprised you haven't filed a restraining order against me. I'm fine with what you said. I could use a drinking partner, and I can't seem to stop running into you – I might as well do it on purpose."

Fai grinned sheepishly. "Shall we toast to friendship?"

"How about we toast to you not getting me fired from my job?" The tension snapped, and the two of them laughed as Kamui, scowling, was sent scurrying back to their table with more alcohol.

* * *

As Fai got drunker, he became hopelessly cuter. Kurogane was regretting agreeing to just be friends, but after their disastrous first encounter, it was an agreement he intended to honor. But, _damn it…_ his pony tail became loser the more he threw back his head and laughed; at one point he had been hit by a fit of fancy, drunk off companionship more than alcohol, and had pulled the pianist Karen up from the piano for a dance. He'd collapsed back into his chair, flushed and breathless, his bangs falling hopelessly down in front of glassy eyes. He wasn't sloppy, just _silly_; Kurogane, for his part, was a quiet drinker, but the atmosphere in the bar was so welcoming that he found himself able to smile easily.

At midnight Kamui had gotten tired of Fuuma ordering him to go fill up their glasses; he had slammed four bottles of alcohol down on the table and stormed off, muttering that they could drink themselves into oblivion for all he cared.

They intended to.

He had secretly hoped Fai would become a touchy-feely drunk, especially as the night wore on, but it didn't happen; it didn't matter how drunk he became, he never felt the sudden urge to throw his arms around Kurogane and pull _him _up for a dance. It was like the opposite of some bad romantic comedy; their fingers never even brushed against the liquor bottles, as they were drinking two different spirits.

"Oh, _shit,_" Kurogane mumbled. Fai looked up, his energy beginning to deplete as the alcohol caught up with him.

"Hmmm?"

"_Her._" Kurogane pointed at a young girl who had appeared in the bar, long brown hair down her back, a tight, small mini-skirt just hiding her thighs.

"An ex-girlfriend?"

"Co-worker. She must be working undercover."

Fai attempted a low whistle but was too drunk to pull it off. He settled on making the sound "pheeeeeeeeeeeeeet."

_Fuck. _Hopelessly cute.

Last call came and went; the bar was closing up. "I think…I think…" It was nearly 2 a.m., and Fai's thoughts worked to form the last coherent sentence of the night. "_You won._"

And with that, he passed out.

Kamui was there, hissing at him as he shoved a bill into his hands. Kurogane took one look down at what they owed and smiled, slowly and devilishly. A drunken idea – the kind that seemed too good to pass up – came to him.

"Yuuko Ichiahara," he wrote on the bill. He wrote down her contact info – her _personal _contact info – and handed the bill back to Kamui. "Tell Fuuma she's paying." He watched as Kamui went back to Fuuma, explained the situation…and Fuuma smiled, nodding. Evidently, he knew who Yuuko was or had at least heard of her, as he accepted the tab and waved at them. He wanted to laugh raucously – his only regret was that he wouldn't be able to see Yuuko's face when she got the liquor bill.

His mind sobered up suddenly, aware of the problem known as Fai. The man had slumped across the table; Kurogane poked him experimentally and got no response back. He was out cold. He stood up, tested his own legs (not too bad: The Pipe Fox let them drink until the sun came up, which was against the law…not that it mattered, what with the police department doing the drinking. Comparatively, _this _was nothing). He tried shouting at him, shaking him, but with Kamui's glares becoming more poignant, he finally went to his last resort.

Kurogane leaned down and lifted the guy up, resting him over his shoulder. Fai's head slumped against the back of his neck, hot breath tickling against Kurogane's skin, his arms gripping Fai's legs as he carried him out the door, carefully maneuvering down the bar steps. If someone's legs had to break, it sure as shit wasn't going to be his.

"Fai." He tried to shake the man again, but there was still no response. He needed to get the guy home_. _If he could get his driver's license and tell a cabbie his address, but…_ oh, fuck._

Fai's wallet was in his back pocket.

"Shit." He swallowed, promised himself what he was doing was okay, and said out loud, for the benefit of his blacked-out drinking partner, "I swear I'm not trying to touch your ass."

Kurogane reached into his back pocket with his fingers; he nearly dropped the blond, who snorted, and yanked out the wallet, furiously yelling at his brain to not think about how his ass felt through his pants. Which was amazing. _Don't think about, don't think about it…_

It was hard to pillage the wallet with just one hand, but Kurogane did such a thorough job of it, he knew that he hadn't just overlooked the driver's license – it wasn't there. In fact, there wasn't a single form of identification on him. Even the business card for his plant nursery didn't have his name on it.

_Well…fuck. _

He gave the cabbie his address, letting Fai lean up against the taxi's back window. Now his mind was sobering up real quick, and its thoughts were nothing good: this was a terrible idea from the get-go, a big trap, and _you are fucked, beyond fucked. _Maybe he would wake up before they got back to his brownstone, give the cabbie his own address, and Kurogane wouldn't have to have to have the "you got drunk, so I brought you back to my place" conversation with a guy who had said, in explicit terms, he didn't want to end up back at Kurogane's place.

Fai never woke up. Kurogane paid the cab driver, and hoisted the man over his shoulder again, dragging himself wearily up to his apartment, gardener in tow.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Lefkos Pyrgos and Shake Shack are real; if you're suspecting that Bacchus likes to eat out…you are correct. And seriously, if anyone is bored for the next week and wants to proofread these chapters for me, let me know – I'll e-mail you the whole fic-and-kaboodle to keep you busy (haha). Summer II starts tomorrow, so I have to go back to work teaching and I won't have time to do a second round of edits to catch any grammatical issues that slipped through the first time I edited (as always, I apologize for them popping up! It's hard to catch errors with your own work because you're so familiar with it, but thank you again for your understanding). I can't offer any consolation prize other than my thanks and you getting to read the fic early, but if anyone wants to slave away at that…let me know! If not, I understand that **you are all sane people, **and that's a good, beautiful thing**.** Plot goes into full swing tomorrow – dun dun dun! As always, thanks for reading and for your reviews!


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: **Thanks xwittychickx** - that's some high praise! Hmmm, can't answer your question, but I'm a firm believer that all roads should lead to Rome…so you'll just have to wait and see! **Thank you, MindlessAdri** - aw, it was just a *little* cliffhanger! **Thanks Uakari!** Don't forget Max Brenner, because **everything is better with chocolate**. And actually, in regards to your suspicions, nope! That's not it. Should I not say that and just let you think it? Eh...I'd better stop while I'm ahead before I ruin anything! **Thanks Reikah!** Hm, I'd be interested to hear what your suspicions are and more interested to see if they're right! Time will tell. **Thanks Dark Mouse!** Glad you like the setting, but hold tight through the embarassment, haha! Lastly, a **BIG THANKS TO TrueDespair, **who offered to beta this. Luckily, I found out today that I've been scheduled to have a two hour break in the morning starting on Thursday, so I hope to handle a second round of proofing myself and catch any remaining, pesky errors. I'm sure some will still slip by, but I'll give it my best. Thanks for reading, as always; hope you enjoy!

* * *

Kurogane was dreaming.

In the dream, Fei-Wang Reed was smiling at him, his teeth flashing as he threw back his head and laughed and laughed…there was some sort of joke that Kurogane had missed, a joke whose punch line ended in the bloody heap at Reed's feet: a man who looked just like Kurogane looked now, the only difference a black ponytail, his uniform shattered with bullet holes, blood soaking through, staining the metal of his badge. His eyes were glassy, empty, staring ahead with a dead gaze. Kurogane looked up; Reed had stopped laughing now, staring at him, and Kurogane moved forward, pressing the barrel of his Glock against the man's head, and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet deep into his brain and out the back of his skull, splattering the wall behind him with the most satisfying Rorschach of blood and bone flecks and brain matter –

A noise woke him. He rolled over in bed, his mind coming heavily out of sleep. There was some sort of groaning sound coming from the living room, followed by a startled yelp…

Instinct kicked in; he slipped soundlessly out of bed, dressed only in his boxers, and unholstered his sidearm from his duty belt near the floor. Kurogane crept to the bedroom door, listening; more sounds now, gasping – someone must have tried to rob him and tripped on something…

He kicked open the door and aimed the gun at his living room intruder.

Fai looked up on the floor from where he had fallen off the couch to the sight of 250 pounds of a chiseled, nearly naked off-duty police officer pointing a loaded Glock 19 at his heart.

"Oh." Kurogane lowered the gun, last night rushing back to him. "It's you."

Fai's normally pale skin had become translucent. "W-where am I?"

"My place. Are you…okay?"

"Nope!" He managed a feeble smile, but it was clear he was having trouble breathing. "Panic attack," he rasped. "And I think I just pissed myself. W-water, please."

Kurogane moved to the kitchen and slipped the Glock into the waistband of his boxers; rule No. 1: don't put down your sidearm. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the sink, passing it to Fai in the living room. The gardener sputtered as he tried to drink it, visibly working to calm himself down. All the while, his eyes remained trained on Kurogane, like a man stuck in a tiger's den unwilling to look away from the tiger.

Halfway through the glass, he took a deep, shuddering breath and smiled. "Is that a gun in your underwear, or you just happy to see me?"

Kurogane answered him flatly. "It's a gun."

"…Is it loaded?"

"Always."

Fai's heart nearly gave out again; he still hadn't picked himself up from the floor, and now he nearly dropped the glass from his hands. "You wouldn't mind putting that away, would you?"

"Guns make you nervous?"

Fai gave a tight, pained grimace. "No, but people_ with _guns do."

Kurogane looked him up and down solemnly; the guy was a complete wreck. His panic attack had started before Kurogane pointed a gun at him; it had been Fai's gasp that had woke him up in the first place. He went back to his room, put the gun back in the holster (even if Fai tried to get his gun, it wouldn't work: only police knew how to remove a sidearm from the specially designed restraint. It didn't lift out: a special, forceful twist of the wrist was necessary to release it). His jeans reeked of alcohol; Kurogane settled for a plane T-shirt and remained in his boxers, returning to the living room.

Fai had pulled himself back up to the couch; he looked up sharply when Kurogane came back, his eyes wide.

"My wallet. Where's –"

"There – on the floor."

Fai snatched it up, shoving it back in his pants' pocket. "Why'd you take my wallet?"

"You passed out. I was looking for your driver's license so I could take you back to your place – you didn't have anything with your name on it, let alone address," he added reproachfully. "Not even a credit or debit card. You always carry that much cash and no I.D., or are you just looking to get robbed?"

"_Please _don't go full cop mode on me. I have a terrible hangover…"

"That all that's bothering you?"

Fai eyed him uneasily. "No. What…what happened when we got back? Here, I mean."

Kurogane stared at him, trying once again to figure the guy out…and failing. Fai was trying too hard to be casual, but at the same time he looked like a rabbit ready to bolt at the scent of a fox. He'd interviewed men like him before, the sort of men that, when asked if they had anything to hide, could say "no" and convince you a hundred times over they were telling the truth…even though, deep in your gut, instinct said otherwise without a shred of proof to go on.

"I dumped you on the couch and went to bed."

"That's rude, Kuro-sama!" Fai let out a great laugh of relief, nearly manic in its explosive suddenness. "You're supposed to give your guest your bed!"

"What would you have done if you woke up in my bed?" Kurogane rolled his eyes. "Besides have more to blackmail me with, I mean."

"That's…thoughtful of you." The two of them looked at each other with mounting unease until Fai's eyes slid past him, over to the kitchen. "Are – are those my _lilies?_"

He snorted. "They're my _cousin's_ lilies now."

"You put my prize Easter lilies in a spaghetti pot!"

"I didn't have a vase."

"_I _would have given you a vase!"

"We weren't on good speaking terms."

"We're about to not be on good speaking terms again!" Fai leapt up from the floor, aiming to take the lilies out of the pot, and stumbled, gripping at the kitchen sink. With a sickening look, he leaned over, retching down the drain.

Kurogane moved without thinking; he reached forward and grabbed Fai's ponytail, holding it for him as the man emptied his stomach into his kitchen sink, thankful there weren't any dishes piled up in there. His hair was soft, softer than any he'd ever felt on a man before, and the strands lay like spider's silk in his fingers, moving as Fai coughed, then froze, his knuckles white on the sink edge.

A hard, icy voice hissed at him suddenly, and Kurogane was aware how stiff Fai had become.

"_Let. Go._"

Kurogane let go of his hair and stepped back, blinking. He was half tempted to snap back at him, but when Fai turned around, his face burned with embarrassment even as he struggled to fake a smile. "Sorry," he muttered. "Hangovers….you know?"

Kurogane didn't know.

"Um." Fai passed a shaking hand up through his bangs. "So…where am I, exactly?"

"Astoria."

"Ah, well, that's good! I should be able to catch a train back to Tribeca."

"What's in Tribeca?"

"My place."

"You live in _Tribeca?_" Fai grinned and scooted nervously away from him. _I'll be damned if he makes enough money working at a plant nursery to afford to live in Tribeca. _"Pretty upscale…for a gardener."

"I do well for myself!" He laughed, his body language screaming _change the topic! _but Kurogane narrowed his eyes.

"_Very _well, I'd say." He took two steps forward until he was towering over Fai, and in the darkest, most authoritative tone he could manage, he growled, "You sure you're not a pot dealer?"

"Who, _me?_" Fai stepped back and found his back against a wall. "No, no – I'm telling you, herbs!"

"_Medicinal_ herbs, I'll bet."

A feminine voice drifted over to them from the doorway. "Oh, Kurogane, stop playing around – I don't think your friend knows you're not being serious. You've got a strange sense of humor, after all."

"Eh?" Kurogane dropped the act and turned as Tomoyo stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind her. Next to him, Fai gave an audible sigh of relief and sunk back down onto the floor, clutching as his head.

"You really slept in today!" Tomoyo walked over, her long hair spilling in curls down the back of her spring dress. She had wrapped a shawl patterned with flowers around her shoulders to keep out the last of the winter chill. "You got in so late last night, I didn't want to wake you up."

"Mm." He jerked his hand down at the blonde mess on the floor. "This is Fai."

"Hello, Fai! Nice to meet you! My name is Tomoyo." Tomoyo crouched in front of him and held out her hand. Fai gave a pained half-smile and shook it.

"You're a lovely, beautiful young woman," he offered, struggling back to his feet. "I, on the other hand, am a day-after, drunken mess."

"Well, boys will be boys." She smiled and gave Kurogane a pointed, playful look.

Kurogane knew her too well. "It's not like that. Fai's just…" _A mistake? A drunk? _

"A friend," the gardener finished for him. "Not that your cousin isn't a lovely young gentleman!"

"I don't think I've ever heard Kurogane described as 'lovely' _or _a gentlemen," Tomoyo laughed. She made to sit down on the couch, sniffed at it, and remained standing.

Kurogane stepped onto the tile, fished the Easter lilies out of the cooking pot, and handed the bouquet to her. Her eyes lit up admiringly.

"Oh, _Kurogane! _There's no way you ever picked these out!" She held them close, her eyes closing as she breathed in the sweet scent.

He snorted and looked over at Fai, who grinned back at him. _Admit it – I'm good at what I do! _his smile said.

Tomoyo looked up. "What's that beeping?"

The sound had caught Kurogane's attention as well. "Pager. Be right back."

The device was on his nightstand, the light flashing at him. Yuuko was calling him down to headquarters. He left the two of them in the living room as he dressed, knowing full well he needed a shower and didn't have time for one, and stepped back out of the room ten minutes later, fastening his belt on.

Fai looked up from his conversation with Tomoyo, his smile faltering until it fell away completely.

"I have to go to the precinct." He looked at Fai, studying his expression. "Want a ride?"

"…No. Thanks, though." He stood back up, heading to the door. "It's been fun. Really," he added, surprised by his own burst of sincerity. "Maybe we'll do it again sometime."

Kurogane laughed. "Or maybe we'll never see each other again."

"Maybe! You never know."

Fai slipped out like a wind through the door, disappearing. Tomoyo breathed in the scent of the flowers again, smiled, and said, "You two would be cute together."

"You. _Out._" She giggled and ran for the door as Kurogane faked drawing his Taser. As he locked up and she headed across the hall to her own place, he called, "Dinner's on me tonight. Pick a place."

"I'll pick somewhere expensive!"

"It's your birthday. Whatever."

"Don't work too hard!" She called, waving to him as he left the front door of the building.

He couldn't help himself; he glanced right and left and down the street, but to no avail: Fai was already gone.

* * *

It was a cloudy, overcast day in lower Manhattan when Kurogane and Souma arrived at Yuuko's office on Saturday morning.

"Lieutenant, Sergeant," she said, and her usual air of humor was gone. "Have a seat."

They sat across from her, waiting patiently as she folded her legs neatly under the desk, a strand of black, silky hair slipping over her shoulder onto the paperwork in front of her. Her eyes fixed on them both.

"Congratulations," she said after a length. "I'm making you both Investigative Supervisors for the Fei-Wang Reed case. Put on your white shirts."

Kurogane let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and the two fists he hadn't realized he'd been clenching released, crescent moons dug into the palms from his nails. Yuuko's gaze swept over him, noting the way he had sat up straighter.

"I know the pay raise doesn't mean anything to you at this point, but just to get it out of the way…" Yuuko was handing them both paperwork regarding the increase in their pay rate that came with the new rank assignment, but Kurogane's mind was elsewhere: he would be picking up the Reed case, supervising a team of detectives, just like his father had a decade ago…

"As Investigative Supervisors, you'll be reporting not just to me, but also to the Chief of the Detective Bureau, Inspector Seishiro Sakurazuka." Yuuko crossed and recrossed her legs. "You'll find that his reputation precedes him, but rest assured…he is _excellent _at finding people." Kurogane was familiar with the man and his unorthodox (sometimes borderline illegal) methods; if Chief Sakurazuka was aware that there were things called "laws" and "protocol" or "red tape," he made no indication of it during his service to the state of New York. Kurogane grinned; just the sort of man he'd like to report to for a case like this, but as an Investigative Supervisor, he'd be on even-footing with him if they ever disagreed: as Chief of Department, Yuuko would always have the final say, and Kurogane was certain Yuuko would always back him.

Yuuko continued. "You'll also be reporting to the Assistant Chief of the Special Investigation Division, Deputy Inspector Subaru Sumeragi. Kurogane, as Lieutenant, you'll be heading your team from the Major Case Squad; Souma, you'll be heading the Missing Persons Squad, but the two of you will be expected to work jointly so that we're covering the most ground. I have here, for each of you, twenty folders apiece – each folder contains the record of a Sergeant or a Detective that I feel would work best for the case. All of the Detectives I've provided are ranked Class 3. I've organized their folders in the priority I would suggest you give them. You should each select five members for your core squads; additional back-up will be provided as needed."

Kurogane didn't glance at the folders. "There's an officer I want on my team. Ryū-ō –"

"Placing Officer Ryū-ō on this case would be an affront to a number of uniformed men and women who outstrip him by _several_ ranks." Yuuko's eyes narrowed. Kurogane knew it was the truth; people called him 'officer' all of the time, but he never bothered to correct them – it was just a saying that had seeped in popular culture, just like 'detective' was blown out of all proportions by those stupid cop shows, but a _real _officer was an actual rank…and a low one. Deputy Seishiro was three ranks above him, and Yuuko was at the very top of the food chain, four ranks above Seishiro, reporting only to Police Commissioner Clow Reed, but Officer Ryū-ō was down way at the bottom. He'd been a measly cadet last year.

"Do I get to pick my team or not?"

"I have to approve it."

"Approve it."

Yuuko rolled her eyes. "_We'll see. _Of more pressing matters, you are both aware that all of the precincts have been working together with our network of informants to gather information on this case."

Souma shifted uncomfortably. "Even though you're placing us in charge of the squads, we won't have access to the informants, will we?"

"No." Kurogane made to protest – how could he be expected to lead a team of investigators without knowing who their main investigators, the ones who would be doing the real legwork behind the scenes, were? – but Yuuko's glare silenced him before he began. "Only I have access to their identities – not even Inspector Seishiro is given that information, or even the Commissioner. Our top priority is not to endanger the lives of any of our men or women, uniformed or else wise. As information comes in from our network, I will pass it on to you. Cell phones and pagers must be on you at all times: your regular hours are gone. You will be on the case full time, working in shifts. How this will impact your personal lives, I cannot say. You may find that nothing changes, especially if we are unable to make any progress…which we have not been able to do for many years now. There was even some discussion of moving this to the Cold Case bureau next year, but obviously, that's off the table now, which brings us to where we begin."

Yuuko pulled out a picture and placed it on the table. In it, a small Korean girl, possibly around the age of 10 or 11, was smiling, her hair pulled back in pig-tails. Behind her, the sun framed her face, illuminating the portrait with a natural glow.

"You are looking at a little girl known as Chun Hyang. Yesterday morning she was abducted, an unfortunately not uncommon occurrence. Fortunately, one of my informants on the case was in the right place at the right time and witnessed the abduction…by a certain man known as Kyle Rondart, Fei-Wang's right-hand man. It's normal to go months at a time without hearing from an undercover; we've had some on the payroll for years, waiting in place for an opportunity like this, bound in silence until that moment when they are needed to make or break a case at the risk of their lives – a moment which, sometimes, never comes. This particular informant has been working to infiltrate the inner circle of Reed's network, and witnessing the abduction, that individual was forced to make a choice: aid Rondart in taking the child, thus gaining deeper access to the trafficking network and giving Reed more reason to give him or her his trust, or save the girl and potentially reveal his or her true allegiance. I assume you know which choice was made."

Kurogane's stomach tightened, his blood suddenly cold. "He let him take the kid."

Yuuko was unmoved. "I cannot confirm or deny the gender of our informant, but yes, that individual made the decision to allow Rondart to take the girl with the hope that, by following Rondart, a break in the Reed case might occur if Rondart reported directly back to Reed, as we have since learned he did. Our officer's gamble paid off. I will provide you with the file containing the major details of our informant's finds, but in short, we have established the following facts: the human trafficking ring is still in place, operating out of Manhattan, as we have known for years, but has shifted its main focus to exclusively children, mostly girls. It has been significantly weakened since our last move against it years ago, thanks to the former Lieutenant Suwa, and was dormant for the last six years, deeply locked down, which explains why we have had no new developments or leads, but has since reopened for business and is preparing to make some big moves. For years now, I have had our people in place, waiting for an opportunity like this. Another informant on the case has been able to confirm that Reed is still alive, heading the trafficking – this is the real deal," she said, pausing. "We have a real shot at taking out the head, not just disrupting the flow. The most important piece of information we have gathered is this: Fei-Wang has targeted the Commissioner's daughter, Sakura Kinomoto."

Kurogane crossed his arms over his chest, adrenaline flowing freely through him now. "_Another _informant? How many do you have on the case? And did your informant say whether or not he thought Fei-Wang could pull that off?"

Yuuko quietly gathered her paperwork, passing it to each of them. "Once again, I cannot confirm or deny the gender of our informant nor the number of men or women working for us undercover within the trafficking ring, but yes, that person did say that, based on what he or she was able to observe, this is bigger and more dangerous than we had anticipated…and when Fei-Wang was at the height of his power, he was _quite _big and _quite _dangerous. I am tempted to think he wants to get us out of the way as quickly as possible so he can resume his business transactions like before, but I also know that he is an arrogant individual who thinks himself incapable of making mistakes. It's entirely possible that this might be a break for us or a clever trap set up by Rondart…_but,_" she said, her eyes flashing, "My instinct tells me that we are just ahead of the tide on this one. Fei-Wang is careful, but I believe Rondart has slipped up. This is our break. We have to keep ahead of it, or it'll drown us – but I am confident we have the opportunity to finish this man off and close this case for good this time around."

Souma's hand passed over her gun, twitching. "What should we expect in the next coming week?"

"Not much. Kurogane, don't give me that look – you know how investigations work. Your father worked on this one for half a decade before he got anywhere with it, and my informants have been on it for years, waiting. Right now, we're working on getting a plant –"

"A rat, you mean."

Yuuko shot him a dirty look. "I'll pass that quip on to our informant. As I was saying, we're working on getting one of our undercovers established in the ring now that we've got it back on the radar to track Rondart's movements; Fei-Wang rarely gets involved himself, so following Rondart will be one of our top priorities. This isn't easy to do – a lot of our men and women won't work for this. Your father ran into the same problem: these traffickers are incredibly sophisticated. We're not talking about infiltrating drug rings: these people hide in plain sight, living double lives of property taxes and vacation homes funded through an underground trade that they rarely get personally involved in, paying others to shuffle these people across cities and borders as they see fit to design. Our victims are held in the back rooms of spas, luxury resorts, under drop-out floor boards, hidden rooms – you get the picture. It's going to take us time to get everything in place, particularly as Reed caters to very rich clientele, so I plan to approach this from the bottom-up."

_The bottom-up. _Kurogane didn't know much about their informant system – that was the idea behind it, after all, but he knew that the bulk of them worked from 'the bottom-up,' passing themselves off as lowly drug runners or gang members who then worked their way up through the ranks, gaining trust and even, in some extreme cases, prestige in the underground world; years of this embedding might pass, and no one would ever know of their service. On the other hand, the top-down approach was the use of informants to buy their way into the heart of the underground world by posing as the clientele of, in this case, the traffickers. Kurogane shuddered, not sure which was worse: having to buy little kids for a night of unholy evil all for the sake of keeping up appearances and not ending up on the wrong side of a gun, outed as a rat, or having to kidnap and sell them in the first place. He felt suddenly thankful to be in his uniform.

"What about the kid?"

"Chun Hyang?" Yuuko gave him a sympathetic look. "We lost the trail on her. There is a high probability she won't be harmed until she's sold, which, statistically, will most likely happen within the next few days, so be ready and on call at all times. I have detectives working on the case now, but, as I said…we're getting nowhere. All three bloodhound K-9 units have been trying to track her with no luck. I give you permission to make her rescue one of your top priorities."

He grunted; he'd planned to do that anyway. "And Sakura?"

"I've assigned round the clock teams to guard her and the Commissioner; you needn't worry about that. Any other questions?"

Souma gave a heavy sigh; an ocean of information had crashed into them, leaving nothing but the heavy sense of responsibility in its wake. "What's for lunch?"

"That depends…" For the first since they stepped into her office, Yuuko smiled. "…On what Kurogane feels like picking up."

* * *

Dinner with Tomoyo was a nice relief from the weight of the work that had been dumped on him, but his mind was racing: somewhere out there in New York City, a little Korean girl's life was in danger… And there was nothing he could do. If this was a movie, a sudden witness would turn up with vital new information, or the NYPD would be in a car chase, barreling down Broadway, but real life wasn't like that: life was a series of quiet, patient moments building up to the split second where you had the chance to take the shot…or not.

Kurogane wanted to take the shot at Fei-Wang Reed, right between his eyes.

On Sunday morning at 8 a.m. he was back at headquarters with Souma, sitting across from Inspector Sakurazuka and Deputy Inspector Sumeragi. The Deputy Inspector was a quiet person who radiated an air of intensity about him. It was well known that Inspector Sakurazuka ("Feel free to call him Seishiro," Yuuko had said. "I won't," Kurogane had replied) had made his name by hunting down the young Sumeragi; rather than lock him away, he had given him a spot on the force. The details of the incident, which had largely been hushed up, had never interested Kurogane: people did their job, and if they did it well, that's all that mattered to him. His own past was enough to keep him busy.

As for Inspector Sakurazuka, he was the sort of man whose age you couldn't tell. In a certain light he looked to be in his early twenties; in another, perhaps his middle thirties. He had the easy air of a man who had no reason not to be unhappy; a lingering, playful smile was always on his face, but his eyes were oddly detached from it. One eye was a fascinating shade of violet…and the _other…_

Beside him, Souma shivered.

The Inspector had lost his eye years ago; there were rumors that he had stepped in front of the blade on purpose, knowing full well that an injury in the line of duty could pay off in a double-step promotion (which it had). He had replaced it with a glass one, but instead of choosing a fake that would at least match his other one, he had instead picked an eye with a pale gray center, like swirling mist…with no pupil. It looked as though a perfect cataract had grown over an otherwise perfectly good eye, and the mismatched, eerie result delighted the man. Sakurazuka rarely had to look into his own eyes, and most likely, it didn't bother him: it was said that he had chosen the uncanny look on purpose to make others feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable people had trouble hiding who they really were, and Sakurazuka was a man who liked to know exactly who people were.

"We're approaching the 72-hour mark since Chun Hyang was taken." Subaru spoke quietly, his hands folded in front of him on the table, boyish bangs hanging down about his eyes. "The likelihood of retrieving her after that time is slim. We have a decision to make."

Kurogane sat up. "We need to save her."

"I'm sure we all feel that way." Inspector Sakurazuka smiled politely in a way that made it clear that not everyone felt that way. "But we have a dilemma. This is the first lead we've had in this case in years. If we move in to rescue the girl, we might do more than just lose the trail: we might also alert Fei-Wang that we found the trail in the first place. There's shooting oneself in the foot…and then there's cutting off one's leg altogether."

Kurogane's eyes narrowed. "You're suggesting we let the girl get trafficked."

Seishiro pulled out a pair of glasses from his front pocket; long, nimble fingers slipped them onto his nose. "All I'm suggesting is that we think of the big picture here. Drop-off points are usually arranged one to four days after a body is picked up. Yuuko has had her pawns in place for years, but we've never been able to _do _anything with the little information they've leaked to us because we've been waiting for an opportunity like this to get enough evidence to pin Reed. You could save one girl…or you could destroy the whole operation."

Kurogane wasn't interested in arresting Reed; he wanted to kill him. He opened his mouth to say as such and decided that that was a fast ticket to being reassigned off the case. When he spoke, his words came out in a low, furious growl. "Are you telling me we can't save that girl _and _bust this case open? Are you saying _I _can't do that?"

"Lieutenant Suwa." Subaru's voice was soft, tinged with apology on the edges. Limpid greens eyes fixed on his. "There are many people who want to bring this to a close just as badly. We have to make the best decision."

Souma placed a hand on his thigh, where one, curled fist had begun to shake.

Seishiro smiled again, and his glass eye fixed on him. "If I didn't know any better, Kurogane, I would guess that you didn't have any intention of bringing Reed in for justice. You'd rather see him dead…and you'd like to be the one to do it." Inspector Sakurazuka pushed himself away from the table, rising. "I've been known to be rather…eccentric in my work." As he walked toward the window, his hand drew itself lightly across Subaru's shoulders, lifting away, and the Deputy Inspector shivered. "But I am not completely without sympathy. _Empathy, _some have suggested…but not sympathy." Mismatched eyes swung on the Deputy Inspector. "Subaru, what do you think we should do?"

Kurogane watched the struggle in the young Deputy Inspector's eyes. With a great effort, Subaru spoke.

"Souma has been placed in charge of the Missing Persons Squad, which, while it has obvious ramifications for the Major Case Squad, is being treated as its own, separate unit. While it may be impractical to do so, I think…I just…" Subaru paused, looking down at the floor. "I think we should try and save that little girl first."

"So neither myself nor Lieutenant Suwa are calling the shots on this one; well, it's been said that we're very good at finding loopholes over here," Seishiro grinned. He returned and stood behind Subaru, resting his hands on the young man's shoulders. "And Subaru has always had such a kind heart…but, Kurogane," he added, the light catching his glasses, momentarily hiding whatever thoughts lurked behind his one good eye. "Don't be surprised if everything doesn't turn out well for us. I'll sign off on approval. Meanwhile, the two of you need to choose your team and let Yuuko know immediately. If we're going to intercept a transfer or raid a drop-off point, we'll most likely be doing so within the next 48 hours. Until then…go get some lunch!" He flashed a brilliant, delightful smile. "New York City has some of the best dining around, you know."

* * *

_Lunch._

Right, lunch…

He couldn't focus on the names and faces of the candidates to back him up in his efforts to take down New York City's most elusive human trafficker. Everything was rushing too fast at him as the time ticked by too slowly. He needed something – _someone _– to take his mind off what was about to happen, but Tomoyo was most likely busy…

His phone lay in his open, sweating palm as he texted the number he had saved and labeled as 'Fai.' Fai _what, _he didn't know; it bothered him that Fai was the only contact without a last name.

_Lunch? _

He half expected not to get a reply back after that disastrous morning in his apartment, but a minute later, a reply came back: _No, shopping! _An odd sort of disappointment settled on him; he hadn't expected to feel so let down.

A second text followed: _But my wallet could use a lunch break. Meet me in Bryant Park?_

Bryant Park was in the heart of the fashion district; it made sense that Fai would be shopping there. It was just far enough that he could clear his head with a change of scenery, and frankly, he hadn't been there in more than a year, when he took Tomoyo shopping for a dress that had cost him a week's worth of pay. That was the sort of bill you didn't forget.

Kurogane texted he was on his way, picked up the stack of files to make himself feel like he was accomplishing something, and grabbed the keys to his cruiser. He wondered how he'd be able to eat when he felt like throwing up.

* * *

There were miniature dogs everywhere.

Walking through Bryant Park was like stepping into a badly scripted romantic comedy; Kurogane didn't want to believe that there could possibly be that many miniature poodles, Chihuahuas, Pomeranians, dachshunds, Bijons, or Yorkies in the city, but as he walked under the flowering laurel trees, he was forced to accept that there _was_, and moreover, they were _all _going for a walk at the same time in Bryant Park.

High end boutiques lined the streets, punctuated by upscale cafes and specialty shops. Quaint tables and chairs had been placed anywhere there was room near patches of greenery and early spring colors, and the whole park glowed with the life of its young shoppers, each walking two steps ahead of the latest fashion, eager to throw off the dark colors of winter. It was a popular tourist destination, but significantly less cluttered with photographers who were expert at stopping right in your way than, say, Times Square. He was about to text Fai for directions when he spotted him, sitting in the middle of it all like a piece that had found its place in the puzzle of life. His hair was pulled back in a very lose ponytail that fluttered in the breeze behind him, the end tied with a long, blue ribbon. One hand stirred a coffee lazily; the other waved cheerfully at him, his fingers gleaming with silver rings that matched the loops in his ear. His collared dress shirt, robin's egg blue, was unbuttoned scandalously low – and that was going by Yuuko's standards – revealing a smooth chest cut off by the tan vest pulled snugly over it, tailoring the lines of his body. He looked like he had just walked out of a magazine – the type that Kurogane didn't read. Piled around his feet, shopping bags stood in neat little rows.

Kurogane pulled out the seat across from him, dropped the folders on the table, and sighed.

"Well, hello to you, too!" Fai shoved the coffee across to him. "You look like the kind of guy who likes his coffee black. I ordered one for you."

He looked down suspiciously at the spoon in it. "What'd you stir into it?"

Fai's eyes sparkled. "A cop to the last! If you're afraid of getting roofied, I can assure you that I would have a hard time dragging off that big body of yours, especially in broad daylight. Oh, come on, stop looking at me like that – I was only stirring it because I was bored."

Kurogane took a sip of the coffee, nodded, and took a bigger gulp.

"I didn't think you'd be up for lunch."

"Oh?" Fai winked at him. "And why's that?"

"You ran out of my place pretty quick."

His face fell a little. "Extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures, don't you think?"

"What was so extraordinary about it?"

"Hmp." A waiter approached and gave them their menus. Fai flipped it open. "You should be glad I didn't take advantage of you while you were passed out in your bed. Who knows? I might have crept in there, taken your gun out –"

"You wouldn't be able to," he interrupted, not amused by Fai's jokes. "Police issue holsters look the same as a civilian sidearm carrier, but you can't pull it out like a regular gun."

Two long arms came up, elbows digging into the table. Fai's chin rested neatly on his fingers as a slow, cat-like grin spread across his face. "And tell me, Kuro-pu, how _do _you get a cop's gun out of its holster?" He winked again, a little more slowly and suggestively to punctuate his meaning, and Kurogane stiffened.

"You need special training and practice, and we're bound not to tell anyone how to do that. The point is that if some crazy asshole tries to grab your gun, they won't get it. Also, you should cut that out." He flipped open his menu with a grunt, scanning for something that wouldn't make him retch, not now with his nerves all shot to shit and Fai sitting there across from him, making those stupid sexual innuendos while his body language shouted "Do Not Touch."

"Cut what out?" Fai pouted at him, tugging at his pony tail.

"Those little quips of yours." He shut the menu with a snap. _Hamburger. I won't throw up a hamburger. _"If we're going to be friends or drinking buddies or…whatever…stop doing that."

"Aw, but Kuro-rin, I'm just teasing!"

"It's called 'mixed messages,' and it's annoying." He picked up one of the profile folders, making a show of studying it. He'd run from one distraction to the next; now he was busy trying not to look at the way Fai had sucked in his bottom lip, as if debating something.

"What's all that?"

"I'm trying to decide which people I should trust with my life."

"Big decision, that one." Fai pointed at the stack of folders. "Can I?" Kurogane shrugged; everything in there was public record. Fai pulled the second one off, and Kurogane watched his expression as he read, noticing the way his eyelashes were long enough to just touch the edges of the skin under his eyes when he blinked. "Kusanagi Shiyu…now _that's _a big guy!"

"He's a definite."

"And this one… Takeshi Shukaido…young, but it says he has a lot of awards." The waiter returned, took Kurogane's order for a hamburger, rare, and Fai's order for a salad, and left two glasses of water in his place. "What's all this business about trusting your life to them?"

He shifted, uncomfortable all of a sudden. How much to share…or how little?

"Have you ever heard of a man named Fei-Wang Reed?"

Fai's face was perfectly impassive, the face of someone who was telling the truth or who was an impeccable liar, and for one of the very first times in his life, Kurogane couldn't decide which. "No," he said. "Can't say that I have."

He didn't tell the gardener about how he had grown up with that name, how his father had worked on the case for years, sometimes going months without so much as a new shred of information, until one night, just as Kurogane had reached that painful stretch of adolescence, right when he was trying to decide what to do with his life, everything came together. The case broke. He didn't tell him about the way his father looked as he suited up for the last time: confident. Excited. Sure. He especially didn't tell him that Kurogane himself had lifted his duty belt and handed it to him, amazed and how _heavy _it was, or the way his mother had kissed his father and told him to be safe. He made a point not to mention how his father was gunned down by Reed himself, after the forces broke through his guards into the heart of the set-up, how his mother had had a heart attack at the news of her husband's death and died in the hospital less than a day later, how Kurogane had joined the academy a year later when he turned 18, started his training, and was now in charge of the squad that intended to hunt him down for good, justice and trial-by-jury be damned.

Instead, he merely answered that he was now heading the investigation unit trying to track the man down, a man who he vaguely described to Fai as a criminal, as a recent breakthrough in the case had happened. "That's all."

"They say the devil's in the details," Fai said when he finished. "I get the sense you left out a lot of details."

"Speaking of details…" He leaned forward, changing the subject. "You didn't explain how you can afford to live in Tribeca on a gardener's salary…or go shopping in Bryant Park."

Fai laughed. "Oh, not that again, Kuro-chi! Aren't Americans supposed to not want to talk about money?"

A slip-up; Kurogane caught it and latched on. "Are you not American?"

Fai's laughter stopped. He looked at Kurogane a little more seriously, the edge of his smile beginning to tug down into a frown. "You're a sharp one. Nope, not American."

"You don't have an accent."

"I came here when I was young." The frown had won out; Fai was looking down at his water anxiously, studying something important in the clear liquid.

"From where?"

An annoyed huff answered. "Does it _matter?_"

"Germany?"

"Are you saying that because I'm tall, blonde, and blue-eyed, you think I'm German? That's racist, Kuro-tan. In fact, since you're a cop, that's _racial profiling._"

"You're German, aren't you?"

"Oh, _come on _– "

"You never told me your last name."

Fai looked up at him sharply, his gaze cutting into him. "My last name, my heritage, my salary – are you investigating me? We can go drinking, we can do lunch, but not if you're going to interrogate me every time we get together." He was genuinely angry now, Kurogane could see that; the breeze suddenly shifted directions, blowing his pony tail over his shoulder. Without thinking, Kurogane reached forward and grasped the end of it, letting the strands fall away through his fingers, gripping onto the ribbon. It came undone; Fai's hair – long and free – blew out behind him, fluttering near his face.

Neither spoke; Fai swallowed, opened his mouth, closed it, and finally managed a sound somewhere between a cough and a squeak.

"Sorry." Kurogane put the ribbon on the table, bracing himself for the glass of water to get thrown in his face. Fai's hand was gripping it, the glass taught with the tension of the pressure he was exerting.

"…Do you know how _hard _it was to tie that bow?" Fai released the glass slowly, drawing the ribbon to him. "And…it's fine."

It was amazing how such a small burst of sensation could make his mind forget about the stress that was building behind his temple. Well, if Fai _wasn't _going to throw water at him, no harm in pressing his luck a little further.

"I could retie it." He reached forward, his fingers slipping behind the Fai's head, and grasped his hair, drawing it toward him. His fingertips passed over the two loops on his earlobe as he pulled his hair forward, then delicately across the column of his throat as he gathered it together. Fai remained silent, wordless, his skin sheet-white, but he passed the ribbon back to him. Kurogane fumbled with the bow, settled for a knot, and leaned back, pleased with himself.

Fai fought for composure; finally, with an air of indignation, he whispered, "You've got a real problem with people's boundaries, you know? And that is _not _a bow. That is a _knot._"

Well, shit; he knew that was coming. "You were the one coming on to me," he pointed out. "And for what it's worth…that's the first time I've ever tied a ribbon in my life."

Fai pressed his hands into his lap, smoothing his pants with the palms of his hands, a tiny smirk on his lips. When he spoke, his gaze remained lowered, his voice just above a whisper.

"Okay…I gave you mixed messages. Fine. That was on me, so I won't hold it against you, and I'll stop with the jokes. But that…please don't do that again."

Kurogane nodded curtly. "I apologize," he said.

Fai gave him a cringing smile. "You're not bad at tying ribbons, though. Not great…but not bad."

The waiter brought their food, and the last thing Kurogane thought before he bit into a hamburger he would throw up an hour later was how soft Fai's hair was, and what a coincidence it was to see Miyuki about two hundred yards away and behind Fai, dressed in plains clothes, shopping while undercover.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Thanks Reikah!** Hope things are going well for you across the pond! **Thanks Zelinzia** - me too :'( We all mourn for Kuro-papa T_T. **Thanks, xwittychickx!** Foreshadowing! What, who, where! ;) Hmmm I wonder what your theory is! You know, the funny this is that I don't watch *any* cop show - if it starts with an acronym and ends with a city, I don't want to watch it (or Law in Order, or anything having to do with crime in general). The only cop show I ever watched was Reno 911...and a couple of seasons of Dexter, which I don't think really counts, but I'll definitely take the compliment! **Thanks May!** Maybe I'll be nice and upload the last two chapters at the same time on Sunday night so you don't have to wait for the epilogue...maybe! **Thanks xxx!** Your spider senses are tingling...you may be on to something! As always, thank you for your time, and hope you enjoy!

* * *

Kusanagi, Yuzuriha, Shogo, Miyuki, Ryū-ō… Kurogane ticked the names of his squad members off in his head, wondering in the dark corners of his mind if these would be the people who would one day save his life or be partially responsible for his death. Ryū-ō, at least, had already proven reliable a year ago: Kurogane and five other officers, Ryū-ō included, had stormed a day trader's apartment in NoHo, near 8th street, close to New York University. The man had started a rather successful, though small, side business of selling Adderall to college students, marketing the prescription drug as a study aide. He wasn't even a blip on NYPD's radar until he started dipping into the world of OxyCotin sales. The would-be drug dealer was easy enough to subdue, but a twenty-year-old student had hidden himself in the coat closet behind the front door. The young man had erupted from the doors with a Magnum in one hand, and for a single moment, Kurogane had stared down the barrel of the gun.

The vision had been interrupted by a gunshot.

The student jerked backwards, eyes wide, and collapsed to the ground, blood sliding over his lips. Kurogane turned to face Ryū-ō, whose gun was still held in the air, a wisp of blue smoke dissolving from the end. The newly instated officer had barely been on the force for a month – his hair was still too long about his ears, as if the thought of cutting it and looking like an adult had never occurred to him. It was his first kill; Kurogane expected to see regret, fear, self-loathing…but Ryū-ō's gaze swung to meet his, and Kurogane met it and saw cool, collected acknowledgement of what he had done, coupled with acceptance and responsibility. He was young: his superior officers said he was hard to handle at times, defiant and headstrong, but he had saved Kurogane's life once.

Kurogane wanted him around in case he needed his life saved again. Yuuko hadn't been thrilled at his disregard for more senior members on the force, but had relented after he threatened to never, _ever _pick up her lunch again. "Fine," she had snapped. "And by the way – you can have Miyuki, but she's also doing something for me, so you may want to reconsider. She'll be busy."

He'd kept her; Kurogane figured it wouldn't be bad to have someone on his squad who had a knack for undercover work, and having chosen Yuzuriha, he'd gotten the bonus of her K-9 unit, Inuki, which was as good as a seventh squad member.

Souma, for her part, had chosen "the dream team," a tongue-in-cheek title that had been kicked around the department for the last year or so. Akira Ijyuin, Suoh Takamura, and Nokoru Imonoyama were all Class 3 Detectives in their early twenties, looking more fit for fashion modeling than police work. Rather than split them up, Yuuko gave them special permission about five years ago to work as a triple-set of partners. When Kurogane first saw them, he thought them pretty boys who had never known a day of hard work in their life – particularly Nokoru, who hailed from a substantially rich family, the sort of money that had been passed down in his blood for generations. _Old _money. In those five years, all three detectives had yet to fire their guns – but had yet to pass an assignment over to Cold Case, either. "They're a talented bunch," Yuuko had once said. "Don't be surprised if they're running the city some day."

Souma had also chosen Sergeants Kentaro Higashikunimaru and Takeshi Shukaido. For all the lack of firing the young detectives had done, Sergeant Kentaro made up for them all: Yuuko had once written, in big, annoyed letters, "TRIGGER HAPPY" across his personnel file. Takeshi was serious to a fault, and to that end, Kentaro swung in the opposite direction, balancing out the young partners into a team that, despite some of their more messy operations, had an otherwise faultless track record. Kentaro fired a lot of rounds, it was true – but he never missed his mark.

Kusanagi, Yuzuriha, Shogo, Miyuki, Ryū-ō…Souma, Akira, Nokoru, Suoh, Kentaro, Takeshi…they were all here now, waiting to mobilize, watching Seishiro smile pleasantly in the debriefing room. Subaru stood next to him, silent and unblinking. In the back of the room, Yuuko sat on top of a desk, smoking. Elsewhere in the building, back-up units were suiting up.

Twilight had fallen on Manhattan; the city flickered into light, glowing on the horizon. It was just after 6 p.m., and somewhere amid that world of neon electricity was a little girl who, within three hours, would be safe in the arms of one of his teammates – maybe even him. It didn't matter who: it just mattered that it would happen.

Seishiro opened his eyes, staring at them; Kurogane shivered a little as the gaze fell on him. The Inspector's expression didn't change – amicable, pleasant – but Kurogane was certain that there was a certain darkness and disapproval about him.

"The Black Spider is located in the East Village, near 6th and 1st," he began. "I've eaten there myself; it has some of the best Korean food I've had in New York City, which is a high compliment. It's a five dining restaurant, five stars, so the first rule of the night is _not _to fire any weapons inside it – I was really hoping to take Subaru out there next week."

No one laughed. Subaru shifted uncomfortably on his feet and said nothing.

Seishiro continued, completely unaware of the awkward tension in the room (perhaps even pleased by it) that was affecting everyone except for him and Yuuko. "Chief Yuuko, perhaps you could take it from here?"

Yuuko took a long drag from her eclectic pipe and exhaled. "One of our informants has determined that The Black Spider is a pick-up location, and that Chun Hyang has already gone through the transfer and been placed somewhere in the building. You already know how pick-ups work: she won't be in the kitchen or in the back, but somewhere very well hidden. Detective Miyuki will enter the restaurant dressed in plain-clothes at approximately 7:30. At that time, a man whose identity we cannot confirm but who has been code-named 'Ryanban' will be dining with his adult son and two other men, identities unknown. The informant believes that he plans to finish his meal and will then leave with Hyang, whom he has allegedly purchased from Reed. Unfortunately, we found out this information only two hours ago, so we'll be going in cold – Miyuki will have the opportunity to scout ahead of time and see if she can find anything unusual in the restaurant that might lead us to Hyang. We have two options at that point…"

Seishiro nodded and continued for her. "Our first option is to allow the pick-up to occur: we'll be able to get evidence on the men who have purchased Hyang and have them arrested, and likewise, they'll lead us to the girl."

"If we do that, there's a chance they'll get away with her," Kurogane interrupted. "While we arrest them, someone else could go and take the girl, so that's not an option."

Seishiro turned his dead, empty eye at him, smiling in a way that an adult might when forced to explain something simple to an even simpler child. "Yuuko, would you mind sharing what else the informant told us?"

Yuuko fixed her eyes on Kurogane, her expression grave. "Fei-Wang Reed was operating for years without us finding a trail on him. If this is not a trap – and I believe, in full confidence, it is not…and I have _yet _to be wrong…that if we intercept this – if we rescue this little girl – we're doing more than just drawing battle lines in the sand: we're crossing them and invading his territory, and he is prideful man. He will strike back at us, and hard…like last time." Kurogane didn't need for her to explain; he knew what had happened last time, because he lived with it every day. "There's no way to pull this mission off without revealing that the NYPD had something to do with it."

His anger bubbled over; he didn't want discord sewn among them before the mission. "So what are you saying?"

Yuuko tapped her pipe thoughtfully on the table. "I'm saying you should listen to Seishiro and hear what your second option is."

"The second option," Seishiro picked up, "Is to attempt a rescue before the girl's pick-up. Going in guns-blazing…_Kentaro…_would be highly problematic; civilians will be eating dinner, so a stray bullet or two could be a PR disaster, not to mention that the resulting, panicked exodus from the restaurant would send diners rushing out into the street, giving your back-up units a very busy night. We would have to rely on Miyuki to get in, find the girl, and then call us in to lead us to her. We'll have to interrupt everyone's dinners and people will be taking pictures with their cell phones, the whole nine yards…but it'll be fast. Shots won't get fired."

"And the buyers?"

"We'll arrest them on suspicion of kidnapping," Yuuko said. "Hopefully we'll be able to make it stick; our informants can't testify in court in person, and written testimony is typically useless to a jury…they don't believe anyone without a face." Yuuko sighed. "What's your call, Lieutenant Kurogane?"

"Second option."

Subaru spoke up, his voice kind and worried. "Miyuki, can you do it? We have the building plans, and we do have something for you to go on: there appears to be a small network of tunnels below the restaurant not connected to the subway or the sewers. It could be nothing; a number of other buildings have been built and torn down at that location, so that might not even be a viable option…but it's something."

Miyuki's hands clenched in her lap; a long strand of brown hair slipped over her shoulder as she looked down at the floor. "I can do it." Her voice, weak at first, strengthened as she repeated the words, looking up at the Deputy Inspector. "I can do this."

Subaru smiled. "Good. I'm going to be your date, then. We'll both be wired, relaying ourselves to Seishiro and Yuuko, who will direct Souma and Kurogane, and have additional radio transmission in the vehicles. Are we ready to do this, then?"

Seishiro folded his hands neatly behind his back, his glass eye staring through and past them. "I think this is the most active we'll be for a while," he said measuredly, and Kurogane knew what he meant: the Inspector believed they were sabotaging the greater mission, but with Yuuko backing Kurogane and Souma, there was nothing he could do. "Let's try to make the most of it, shall we?"

* * *

The Black Spider wasn't a place Kurogane could afford to eat at; he had a good salary and a nice chunk of change stored away in savings – a rather substantial chunk, to be perfectly honest, as he had no hobbies and no desire to travel – but rent in New York City for even a small place like his could drain your bank account dry. He heard the sounds of the restaurant through the receiver, imagining what it looked like in his mind: tables lined with starch-stiff white cloths, glasses sparkling, the quiet, buzzing atmosphere of fine dining. They had stationed themselves behind the restaurant, across the street from what the building plans indicated was the back door of the kitchen, used for taking out the trash, his team in one nondescript van, Souma's in the other. The van was quiet except for the occasional sound from Souma's wire in the other unit and the rhythmic panting of Yuzuriha's German Sheppard, Inuki. Kurogane listened as a waiter came and took Subaru and Miyuki's order, filled their glasses, and then Miyuki was politely excusing herself for what would most likely be a very long bathroom break. He hoped she'd find something other than the bathroom.

Subaru's voice whispered into the wirer's microphone. "I believe I have a positive on 'Ryanban' – he matches the description we were provided. Overweight, shoulder length hair, thin, long mustache, seated with three other men. They're drinking and eating; no suspicious activity to report."

The quiet sounds of dinner continued to drift through the receiver as Kurogane waited, tense. Miyuki returned from the bathroom every twenty minutes or so to sit back down, making sure the waiter saw her seated. He'd heard a tense "No luck" whispered, followed shortly by the sound of them eating dinner to keep up appearances.

Seishiro sighed. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but _I'm _hungry now."

Another twenty minutes passed before anything more came through on the receiver. "The men are still drinking, but they're winding down. Miyuki is taking one more run at the place," Subaru whispered.

Seishiro looked up; his usual smile was replaced with a quiet intensity, his mouth pressed tightly together in a grimace. "If Miyuki can't turn up something, it's now or never: we'll have to go in without a lead, Lieutenant Suwa."

Kurogane didn't reply.

Ten more minutes passed, each moment feeling as though it lasted longer than the last, like time was being multiplied exponentially, expanding upon itself.

A sound came across the receiver; Miyuki settled back into her seat, her whispers slightly breathless. "The kitchen is the only place I couldn't get to," she said. "I've been through everything else – there're no loose floors in the bathrooms, nothing in the ceilings – everything is perfect. It _has _to be the kitchen," she added again, desperately.

Subaru's voice followed after hers. "The other men are getting up to leave and heading for the front exit, in front of the restaurant; our suspect is speaking to the waiter, he…" Silence, listening. "He wants to pay his compliments to the chef."

"I _knew _it had to be the kitchen!" Miyuki sounded petulant.

Seishiro looked up at him now. "Lieutenant Suwa?"

Subaru sounded again, urgent. "He'd heading to the kitchen with the waiter."

Kurogane spoke, his voice calm. His heart was beating too fast, his palms suddenly sweaty, and he sounded far more confident than he actually felt. "Souma: mobilize your squad immediately. Stop those three men – try to do so as quietly as possible, ideally not directly in front of the restaurant,."

"Understood." He heard the scramble of Souma's team leaving the other police van and continued, fighting against the adrenaline that was threatening to cloud his thoughts. "Subaru, Miyuki – follow him into the kitchen. If anyone tries to stop you, flash your badge. Once you're behind the doors, tell him to stop – draw your weapons if you have to. We'll enter through the back way and take it from there."

"Negative." Seishiro's voice was sharp. "Miyuki goes alone – Subaru, exit the restaurant immediately."

Kurogane all but restrained himself from grabbing the Inspector by the throat. "Miyuki needs back up – we don't have time to argue!"

"_Subaru _reports to _me_, and I won't have you endangering his life." Seishiro's voice was deathly cold. "Subaru, this is an order: _exit the building. _Kurogane, the rest of you…I suggest you get moving."

They didn't have time to argue; he'd talk to Yuuko about this later – if there was to _be _a later – but for now they were jumping down from the van in a neat line, guns drawn and held low at their hips as they moved toward the door, Seishiro alerting the back-up units behind them through the radio. Feet pounded on asphalt, upstairs; Kusanagi shot him a quick look that said _well, here it goes, _then kicked open the back door.

Everything that mattered happened in a matter of seconds. Inside, Miyuki had already drawn her gun: 'Ryanban' had dropped to his knees, hands behind his head, begging for his life in a slobbering, simpering way. Kusanagi moved in, pressed himself to the right; Ryū-ō followed on his heels, covering the left. Yuzuriha and Inuki came next, flanked by Shogo, and the German Shepherd bared his fangs and snarled. Two men, dressed all in black and looking distinctly out of place in the kitchen, took off running, purposefully scattering pots behind them just as Kurogane came through the back door, barrel facing center.

Inuki was loosed; one man found himself dragged down near the stove, flailing madly at a pan above him for a weapon against the dog. The move backfired; frying grease fell upon him, and over the sound of his screams as his flesh was burned away by the oil and shredded by Inuki's fangs, Kurogane heard the sound of Kusanagi firing – and missing – at the escaping man.

"Ryū-ō, cover me!"

"Got it!"

Five seconds had passed from the moment the backdoor was kicked open, and already the mission was about to result in failure. The second man turned a sharp corner, dodged a round from Kurogane's Glock, and ducked low, yanking open an industrial size dishwasher, the type that was the size of a refrigerator, used to powerwash everything in the place at once.

Instead of rows of dirty dishes, a small, dark entrance appeared. The man crouched down and dove inside; Kurogane fired again and found his mark. A pained wail flew up from the darkness, followed by scuffing sounds: he'd most likely been hit in the leg.

"We're going in!"

"Hold on!" Yuzuriha was suddenly there, pushing past Ryū-ō, a shrill whistle on her lips. Inuki came tearing past them, his muzzle wet with blood, and leapt into the darkness.

From within, gunshots sounded, then the high-pitched scream of someone falling over backwards and the wet, crunching sound of a pair of jaws closing around a windpipe that would never suck in air again.

A bullet-proof vest didn't do much for arms, legs, or heads, Kurogane knew, but it was too late to turn back; the three of them ran forward, crouching as they moved through the entrance. It opened up at once, sloping downward as they ran. The cold, wet smell of the underground mingled with the scent of blood.

"Inuki!" Yuzuriha called out, and Inuki answered, harsh barks ringing through the tunnels. They had mounted their flashlights on their guns, and the light guided them now into the dark. Just shy of a minute had passed from the moment they kicked in the door, and already they could hear Seishiro over the two-ways clipped to their belts saying that back-up officers had mobilized, surrounding the building, not that it would do much good, Kurogane thought: they had no idea where the tunnel exited at. Over the two-way, Seishiro announced that Souma's team had apprehended the three men and were back on the premises, coming to join them.

Everything was happening too fast, too messy; they had caught up with Inuki, who was throwing himself against a door that was firmly bolted shut at the end of the short tunnel. One man had already been waiting down in the tunnel outside the door, but he had been dead by the time they got there; Inuki had ripped his throat out, and he laid now as a corpse in a dark world.

"_Stand back!"_

Kurogane emptied his Glock's magazine into the lock, slamming his shoulder into the door as he reloaded, breaking it down.

They were in a small, wood-paneled room – a blood stain was streaked across the floor, leading up near a wall where a short ladder led back up into the open ground above them. The man Kurogane shot had managed to escape, along with whoever else had been in the room, be it one person or ten.

Yuzuriha called Inuki back to her with a whistle. "There has to be at least two – the one you shot, and one to carry the girl, if she was here. There's no way he would have made it up the ladder with a shot-leg, holding a girl."

_Twelve rungs – _not too high. Kurogane reholstered his gun, grabbed the German Shepherd by the scruff of his neck, and hoisted him up, shoving the animal up through the opening. The Upper East side's night sparkled above them as Inuki ran, nails scraping on the street, following the blood. Yuzuriha flew up next, eager to be after the dog, followed by Kurogane, his squadmates coming down after him now, close on his heels.

Two minutes had passed now, if that. There was a panic in the street around them as a German Sheppard with a police vest went barreling through them, but already the crowd had pressed to the edge of the sidewalks, close against store windows and the road, traffic streaking by – another curious sight had just emerged from what appeared to be a sewer outlet, yet was clearly not, and the people were still busy muttering about the man who had gone limping, gasping out of the tunnel, spilling out into the some of the cleaner streets New York City had to offer. To Kurogane's right, a man muttered, "I thought this sort of thing only happens in Harlem."

Next to him, another man snickered. "You should see Atlantic City."

The man with the leg wound had only made it a hundred yards ahead.

"_MOVE!" _

New Yorkers didn't need to be told twice when a gun was involved; the city-goers threw themselves out of the way as Kurogane planted one leg forward, both hands on the gun, and fired.

The bullet struck the man through the back of his chest, lodging itself neatly in his heart. He fell down, dead, and Inuki went tearing passed, uninterested in someone who wasn't running from him. Screams of panic went up among the crowd, and somewhere in the back of his mind Kurogane could hear Seishiro in the debriefing room, making a joke about a public relations disaster, because _fuck, _they were going to have one.

Yuzuriha's estimate was close – there were two extra people, not just one – and Kurogane could see them both on either side of the sea of onlookers, and one of them had slung the body of a small girl over his shoulder. The girl, to her credit, had allowed herself to cry even as she fought, struggling against them, her hands and mouth gagged. _Oh fuck, _he thought, racing now against the tide of people. A child in distress would egg civilians to become heroes, a bad move when guns were drawn and bullets could miss their mark, and if there was one stereotype about New Yorkers that was true – one stereotype in a sea of a thousand falsehoods – it was that New Yorkers didn't take shit from anyone.

The man not holding Chun Hyang turned around suddenly, making his stand, a black cloth tied around the bottom half of his face to hide his identity, but in his hand he held a four-barreled Remington Derringer. He brought it up and aimed at the dog.

Kurogane took the shot; the 9mm bullet shattered through the man's hand in a spray of blood, ripping through tendons and bones that would never connect and work together again as slivers of fingers were blown down into the streets.

The man screamed, a sound that was cut off by the German Shepherd who sprang forward, fangs piercing his jugular. Yuzuriha had trained him well; before all of this was through, if they were lucky, they could blame most of the deaths on the dog.

Kurogane couldn't shoot at the man holding Hyang without possibly hitting the girl, who was still running; the risk wasn't worth it. He ran faster, gaining ground; the crowd had come alive again, and they moved now en masse, closing them in together. If they were in the Bronx, someone might have taken a bat to his head by now, but in the Upper East side, no one rushed forward to stop the man, but his way was nevertheless blocked by an unbreakable ocean of people, not letting him get farther, and Kurogane was suddenly upon him, yanking the girl out of his arms by her clothes, pistol whipping the bastard into a heap on the ground. The people around him broke into cheers with shouts of "Holy _hell, _did you see that!" punctuating the roar.

Ryū-ō caught up and trained his gun on the man, shouting at him to get flat on the ground and put his hands behind his head. Kurogane knelt to the ground, reholstered his gun, and untied the gag from around Chun Hyang's mouth, then her arms, with hands that were suddenly shaking with stress now that everything was over.

The girl didn't speak; she looked up at him, fierce little eyes filling with tears, and threw her hands around his neck, sobbing into his uniform.

* * *

Maybe Yuuko said something to Seishiro, because in the week that followed, Seishiro never said anything to him about everything that had happened following the arrest. As far as the mission went, his only comment was that "Things went better than I expected they would." When Kurogane had complained to Yuuko about his orders to make Subaru leave the building, Yuuko had listened patiently, nodded, and then said, "It was a decision he had the authority to make. That's all."

Kurogane discovered that when Seishiro said to expect a "PR nightmare" he had meant 'nightmare' in the strictest possible sense of the word; while the people who had witnessed him save Hyang had cheered, the newspapers were ragging on the NYPD about poor police conduct and planning, the usual 'blood in the streets' bit (although, to be fair, they meant it literally this time). One editorial berated them for police brutality ("Poor Inuki, they think you're mean – you were just doing your job!" Yuzuriha had sighed, petting the Shepherd) while another applauded their success the very next day and their willingness to take extraordinary measures to save the life of a single New York citizen. Kurogane had been interviewed no less than four times and had given the same stock answers he was told to give in increasingly annoyed tones. They'd finally stopped calling. The only good news he had received all week was that Yuuko had arranged his mandatory leave following the discharge of his weapon to last a whole two hours while she signed off on the paperwork, citing a clause that allowed him to remain on active duty while heading an investigation. "We still have to do an investigation, which will get done shortly, but in the mean time, you'll be cleared for the use of lethal force," she said.

It was a poor consolation prize; the implications for the Reed case set in full force at the end of the week after they'd been outed by the press. It was like a chess game now, with both players aware that they were engaged in a match, when just on Monday Reed hadn't known his opponent was watching his moves. The investigation all but came to a halt by Friday: there was nothing to do, no leads to go on, absolutely no developments: his week was the usual grind of patrol, following-up on lesser cases, joined now by a new, healthy dose of stress and anxiety.

Yuuko had pulled him aside on Friday and told him what he considered bad news. He sat in her office, watching as New York glowed with the sunlight of the golden hour, sunset approaching. She drew the shades and spoke quietly, her eyes fixed on him.

"I've got three men on the inside," she said. "And I mean 'men' in a genderless way, as I can neither confirm nor deny –"

"Get on with it."

"I heard from one of them today. I'm not supposed to say how many undercovers I have working the case, but I'm telling you this because I trust you and I don't want to see you fall apart over this. The good news is that Fei-Wang only suspects one of them; he knows he has a rat in his midst, and our other informant told us he's not thrilled about it…to say the least. All of their lives are in danger. I told you once that my duty is to protect _all _my men and women. The most we can do now is try to control how he thinks of us in terms of what he expects; we've alerted him full force, and he's an intelligent man, Kurogane. Our priority now is to shake his suspicion off and re-affirm his trust in his men, so my informants are going to try and back off a little for the time being and watch, waiting for a new break. Once we've achieved that, if something should fall into place like the Hyang incident, we'll hit him again, but until then, I wouldn't expect too much. You look like your nerves are shot, and it's only been a week: be patient. This will come together in time."

Kurogane felt his heart sink. He'd fucked everything up, just like Seishiro said he would. "Are you telling me the best thing that could happen for this investigation is to wait for some other little kid to get dragged off the street and kidnapped –"

"Kurogane." Yuuko put a hand on his shoulder. "We could go on forever busting carriers – your father did. He had a chance to strike at the heart of Fei-Wang's operation, at Fei-Wang himself, and he took it. I wish it had worked out; he would have saved many lives…including his own. The best thing for this investigation is to bide our time, let the pieces fall into place now that Fei-Wang knows we've got a pulse on him in Manhattan, and plan to take _him _down. If we can save anyone else that he takes between now and then, we will, but until then…you have to be patient. Our own lives march on; don't let this consume you."

As he left her office, Kurogane did the only thing he could think to do. He flipped his cell phone open, and with the feeling of a headache building behind his temples, texted Fai: _I need a fucking drink. _

* * *

The invitation to come over to Fai's place struck him as odd, but he was in no mood to try and figure out what it could mean, if anything, especially because it most likely meant nothing. Kurogane went home, showered and stared too long down at the water spiraling into the drain, his own thoughts beating against him inside his skull. He dressed plainly, jeans and a black T-shirt. He could have dressed warmer – should have, really, as the spring air was still a bit chill. It nipped at him, stinging his ears in the night, but at least it was something to take his mind off…everything.

He kept looking down at Fai's address on his phone and felt the sudden urge to laugh, which would have earned him some (not much) space on the train (people only shied away from crazies, if they shied away at all). _Greenwich Street. Tribeca._ It was funny, but Kurogane wasn't sure why. _I fucking know someone who lives on Greenwich Street in Tribeca. God damn, _he thought, walking up the steps from the subway, emerging once more into the crisp night air.

Fai lived on the top floor of a nine-story brownstone on a clean street lined with sculpted trees. It reminded Kurogane of a movie set: the rawness of New York City had been scrubbed away, leaving a pleasant neighborhood in its place. Maybe he was just used to the rougher edges of Astoria, with its Italian sub shops tucked away in convenience stores, or maybe it was just the end of a terrible week, but he had the distinct feeling he didn't belong here, _in_ _fucking Tribeca, for Christ's sake, _he thought. He debated in the elevator whether or not to turn around and walk right back down and out, and when it came time to knock at the door, he paused, suddenly unsure. It was as if a reasonable voice was reminding him that _this is a bad idea, _and for once, it was loud enough to hear.

The door opened.

Fai's face broke into a smile. "I thought I heard footsteps out here! Come on in, Kuro-pu!"

The top floor loft was awash in the glow of New York City's night life, the entire side wall one long, open window with black-out curtains, midnight blue with silver tassels, spaced evenly apart every five feet or so. Lacquered, hardwood paneling gleamed under his feet as he stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him. Marble kitchen countertops stretched along one wall, polished oak cabinets above them, boarded by a stainless steel refrigerator and dishwasher, a matching marble bar in front of them, three stools placed in front. In the middle of the room stood a kitchen table, chairs pushed neatly in, and two black leather couches stood facing each other past the kitchen table, a glass-paneled coffee table stretching between them, supported by four columns of cut glass squares made to look like swirling vortexes. Fai's bed was on the other side of the room, on the opposite side of the kitchen table, set _into _the floor, with steps leading down to it and drawers down on the broad sides; Kurogane could just see the groove where more wood could be slid out, covering the bed and extending the floor space. The comforter matched the curtains, and a mountain of embroidered pillows was piled high around it. Amid the luxury, flowers bloomed: bouquets of every color were piled high, dripping with vines and ferns, spilling down from atop the counters, bordering the couches on neat little tables, smaller pots decorating the floor itself. Only two things seemed out of place: a basket filled with gardening tools near the door (shears, a familiar dirty apron, rope, stakes, a small bag of soil) and two little stuffed animal toys, a light and dark pink rabbit-esque creature, on the living room floor.

Something bothered Kurogane; he couldn't quite place it, but something was a bit odd… He shoved the sense away and inhaled deeply: a warm smell, buttery and light, was filling the air, mingling with the flowers' natural perfumes.

"You're in the mob, aren't you?"

Fai laughed. "I told you, I make good money!" There was good money and then there was _who the fuck can afford a place like this on Greenwich Street in Tribeca? _He walked past Kurogane, whose eyes followed the slight sway of his hip, noticing the way the belt around his khaki pants pulled them tighter around his backside.

He wanted something to take his mind off the worst week of his career: he'd found him.

"I figured since I've been to your place, you might as well come to mine, and we didn't get together at all this week – according to the newspapers, you were, shall we say…busy?" Fai laughed. Kurogane forced his eyes to move up, past the small of Fai's back, over the light tank undershirt he was wearing, to his shoulders. He didn't know what to focus on: the almost visible tattoo (the outline dark through the tank, clearly covering his whole back)….or the braids in his loose hair.

The braids won.

"_What _did you do you to your hair?"

"_I _didn't do anything." Kurogane watched as Fai walked over to a waffle iron on the counter, checking the light on it. He tapped his foot impatiently, hands resting on cocked hips. "My nieces were over – they left their toys, too. They wanted to braid my hair."

"So you _let _them?"

Fourteen little braids, each tied with a tiny, pink rubber band, swayed as Fai looked over his shoulder, grinning. "Are you telling me I don't look cute? Aw, come on Kuro-chi, and I even made us waffles!" He strolled over to the refrigerator, long arms gathering up syrup and butter and strawberries, piling them up on the counter next to plates and silverware he was fishing out from the counters.

All the while, the inky tattoo moved as his muscles worked.

Kurogane took a seat at the bar, watching him. "What's your tattoo of?"

Fai hissed as the iron burned his fingers; he grabbed a fork and fished the first waffle out onto a plate, passing it to Kurogane. "It's nothing – just a design. Think of it as a tribal tattoo."

"Only idiots get tribal tattoos."

"Well, that explains why I got one!" A cheerful grin met him, and then Fai turned away, pouring more batter into the iron.

"I don't think you're an idiot."

Little blonde braids whirled out as Fai spun around, leaning on the bar. "Really, truly, do you mean it, Kuro-sama?"

He poked at his waffle. "Maybe."

"That's almost as good as a yes!"

"Can I see it?"

"When it's done." Fai shut the iron; steam rose, hissing from the sides.

"Not the _waffle._ Your tattoo."

"Oh." Fai blinked at him, considering, then shrugged. "Okay…and _try _not to be jealous."

It was amazing how all of the misery he'd been carrying around with him dissolved as Fai grabbed the bottom of his tank top, drawing it over his head in one fluid motion. His torso was trim and flat – no ribs sticking out, just smooth, pale muscle – leading up into toned arms. With his shirt off, Fai was suddenly nervous, wearing an expression of shock, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just done, mingled with the flush of a certain excitement, like he was pleased with himself, all the same. He turned around slowly, exposing his back. It was hard to find the pattern in the tattoo at first; it was all dark ink and movement, lines snaking over his shoulders and wrapping around hips, trailing suggestively down toward his groin. Two dots were centered on each shoulder blade, and from focusing on those, it looked almost like folded wings – almost, if he looked at it just right – and yet even that image was buried within a more beautiful pattern.

Fai shivered; Kurogane could see his finger tips hugging his sides, and suddenly the blond tugged his tank back on hastily. Without meeting Kurogane's eyes, he stared down at the waffle iron, intent on the electric light.

"So," he said after a moment, his braids swaying. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful." He said it frankly, watching as Fai tried to suppress a small, genuine smile of pleasure. "When did you get it?"

"Some years ago."

"Why?"

"To commemorate something."

"Must have been one hell of a commemoration – how many hours did that take?" The lines were thick and solid – twelve, eighteen hours could have been easily lost to that tattoo, if Fai had had the stomach to sit through it all in one sitting. Much, much longer, if not.

"Enough hours to make me never want to get a tattoo ever again!"

"I doubt you have any room left to get one after that."

"Not true, Kuro-pon," Fai quipped. "My ass is completely bare!"

"….That's nice."

"Sorry, sorry, bad joke." Fai plated the second waffle, joining him.

"So your ass _isn't _bare?"

"Look at you – you _do _have a sense of humor!"

"Mm." He poked at his waffle again; he'd been through too much stress lately to manage to eat. "What's in this waffle?"

"Special recipe! Lots and lots of butter, milk, flour, eggs –"

"Buttermilk, or butter and milk?"

"Butter _and_ milk, that's how you make it flaky, instead of cakey." Fai looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

Kurogane pushed his plate politely away. "I'm lactose intolerant. Sorry. I didn't know you were cooking, and I don't want to throw up all over your nice place."

"Oh." Fai looked at him strangely, as if finding it odd that he had some sort of defect – _human, after all! _his gaze exclaimed – and shrugged. "Well, if you're not eating, I won't eat. Have a drink in the living room with me?"

An hour later Kurogane had barely touched his drink as Fai sat next to him, on the same couch (_he has another couch – he could have sat across from me,_ Kurogane thought) and listened patiently as he vented about Seishiro, Yuuko – hell, and even Inuki, who had been declared a menace by more than one newspaper, caught some of his wrath ("He's a good dog," Kurogane added as an afterthought after grumbling about the animal's tendency to rip out throats).

Fai sipped thoughtfully, nodding, not patronizing him with quips or smiles, as Kurogane cursed the world.

"Thanks for having me over," he finished, suddenly ashamed of his diatribe.

Fai moved his glass from hand to hand, watching the little bit of liquor move. "It's no problem." Then, speaking quickly to get the words out before he changed his mind, he added, "I was sort of disappointed I didn't hear from you all week, so I was plotting all day how to invite you out, but you beat me to it."

Well, what the hell was he supposed to say to that?

"Oh."

"Stupid, I know." Fai set his glass down on the table and turned to him with a great effort, forcing himself to meet Kurogane's gaze. "We're both busy – most drinking buddies just get together on the weekend. I don't think either of us is at a stage in our career where we should be drinking on weeknights, huh?" He was tugging nervously at one of the brains, nails catching at the rubberband.

"You're gonna rip your hair out," Kurogane muttered.

"Well…maybe you could help me? I remember you were good with ribbons. Rubberbands aren't so…different." He fidgeted, and Kurogane blinked at him, trying to figure out just what was going on here. _This probably won't end well, _he thought, but Fai kept glancing at him, and his usual coyness was replaced by a sudden spark of hope and want. Kurogane swallowed, reached forward, and figured his week couldn't get any worse if this went south.

Fai froze, stopping himself from drawing away, and turned around very slowly, visibly forcing himself to relax. Kurogane set his drink down and moved closer on the couch until he was comfortably behind him, taking the first little brain in between his fingers. _Jesus, they're small. _It would be faster to cut the damn things off all together, but then again…that feeling of running his hands through silk strands returned. Kurogane tugged gently at the first rubberband, freeing the hair, and began loosening the tight braid up at the top of his scalp, using his nails to drag it down. Fai shivered at the delicate pressure; behind him, Kurogane worked the strands free.

He was going to buy Fai's nieces a whole _box _of cupcakes for doing this, Kurogane thought, grinning a little. He'd only worked his way through nine of the braids, but the result had left Fai a melted mess of someone trying to hide how much they were enjoying something. Every so often the blond let out a great, drawn-out sigh, catching himself just at the end and stiffening, as if to hide the pleasure he was getting from Kurogane's hands tugging through his hair, a neat little pile of rubberbands building on the table. The silence in the apartment was punctuated only by their breathing: Kurogane's slow and deep, Fai's quick and shallow. He loosed the last braid and decided that if Fai wanted him to stop he wouldn't be leaning back into his touch so much, and for ten minutes of heart-pounding anxiety, he raked his nails across Fai's scalp, letting long hair fall freely away between his fingers.

Fai's posture relaxed; he fell back against Kurogane, his head resting against his neck, and without thinking, Kurogane's arms slid down around his waist, pulling him closer until he could breathe in his scent: flowers. Waffles. Whatever Fai used to make him smell like Fai.

The gardener spoke. "It's been a rough week, huh?" Blue eyes had fallen shut, Fai's head pressing closer now under his own, his hair tickling Kurogane's skin.

He didn't reply with words. Kurogane leaned down and a ran his tongue along the bridge of Fai's left ear, his mouth closing around the earlobe, piercings and all. He could taste the tang of the metal as he sucked on it, his tongue sliding between the piercings, pressing against them. Now the week was completely forgotten: Fai was leaning back into his arms, Kurogane's hands were around his waist, and a low growl had started in his throat, vibrating against the gardener as Fai shuddered, gasping, hitching himself away. Kurogane tightened his pressure a little on his hips, holding him closer, and sucked more forcibly, nipping at the bottom of the earlobe.

Fai let out a gasp distinctly unlike the sound he had made when Kurogane had his hands in his hair. The officer let go, and Fai shot forward, standing in his living room. It was suddenly too cold in the apartment when just a moment ago it had been much, much too hot.

"I think…I think I've crossed a line."

Kurogane stared; Fai had spoken, beating him to the exact words he wanted to say, but the blond continued, his words coming out in a rush now. "I've gone back and forth all week in my head about this – you. Me. You _and _me. You and _not _me, how I feel about you, what I think about you…I don't hold it against you. I mean, what happened in the park," he added, in case Kurogane needed reminding, which he didn't. "I don't think that's who you are, not really…but then I think that I just _want_ to think that about you, that I'm desperate – or _you're _desperate, who knows, but either way, that this…you and me…isn't good for either of us. I'm not really the dating type, either, but when I think that maybe you and I could just start over, I…but then I think that wouldn't work, either, not with me – and…" His stunted speech floundered to close, and he smiled apologetically. "I'm not making any sense at all, am I?"

Kurogane stood up and shoved his hands into his jean pockets; he was the sort of man who could speak his mind when he had to, even if he preferred to keep his feelings inside, private, but now he found the words, calmly and matter-of-factly, to say what needed to be said. "You told me you weren't interested in me in that way. I think I've made it clear to you that I would be interested in you…if you wanted to let me be. Sometimes it seems like you do, and then you don't, and I end up feeling like shit because you're right – I'm not that person, and I don't want to pressure you or force something that isn't going to happen. I know I…I got us off on the wrong foot…which is a fucking understatement," he scoffed at himself, looking away. "And believe me, I can't take it back. I think about it every day – I've tried, every day since then, to make up for those actions, but if anything good came out of it… I'm glad we met." It was true; they hadn't know each other long, but Fai had stepped into his life like he had always belonged and filled a gap he'd felt growing larger and out of his control. Was he that lonely and desperate that someone he'd only met a few times was someone he'd run to first after a hard week at work?

Kurogane stepped forward, reaching for him suddenly. "Fai –"

"No." Fai stepped back, away from him, blonde hair moving freely as he shook his head. "I know what you're thinking, that I'm some sort of cocktease who has gone back and forth, but I don't want this for me. I'm sorry to have treated you this way and led you on."

Kurogane's hand, still outstretched in the air, fell down to his side. "I don't think of you like that," he said, and even though his voice was quiet, it seemed to fill the whole apartment. "I understand. You've told me that already, and…I think I should go." His voice was flat. "Thanks for the waffle."

Fai's eyes slid away, down to the floor. "Thanks for not eating it and throwing all over my place," he whispered.

Yes, he definitely should have dressed warmer, Kurogane thought as he stepped back out onto the street, the wind cutting into him. The subway was waiting, the entrance gaping open to swallow him like the maw of some ravenous beast, the trains roaring up from below, but his feet felt good on the pavement. How long would it take to walk back to Astoria from Tribeca? If he walked all the way up 3rd avenue and crossed the Queensbury Bridge (_and don't jump off it, even if you feel like it, _he told himself), it'd give him about two and a half hours to focus on nothing except for the sound of his footsteps rising and falling in the street, a blessed distraction from the memory of the sad smile on Fai's face as he left.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'd apologize about the Atlantic City joke, but my whole extended family lives in that area, so it's all in good fun. Seriously though, don't go to Atlantic City. Side note: The working title for this fic was "UST: UST, everywhere." But how _long _will it be "U" ST? Stay tuned! ...Second side note: The next chapter is my favorite chapter. ^_^ That's not relevant to anything, but I'm just sayin'. Thanks for reading, and as always, thanks for your time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thanks Zelinxia!** I'm also not a fan of crime and law dramas; I really, really just liked the image of Kurogane holding a Glock, so I constructed a story around that. I know lots of firefighters and could have done a great firefighter fic, but the NYFD doesn't carry Glocks! (The only police officer I know is a K-9 handler, so I had to work that in there. Helllllllo, Yuzuriha!). Anyways, have a great weekend! **Thanks Uakari!** I'm pretty sure CLAMP themselves wins the "most fucked up version of Fai" award, having set the bar impossibly high to match. I don't suspect I'll be winning any accolades in that department soon! **Thanks, Arctic Bee!** It means a lot that you would come out of the woodwork to comment :D I love technical talk, it's kind of a quirk of mine, so I'm glad you don't find that boring! **Lastly, thanks Guest!** Since you were nice enough to leave a review, I'm uploading this about six hours early so you can hopefully read it before you go to bed, being as you seem to be in QUITE a different time zone than me! As always, thank you all for reading, hope you enjoy!

* * *

Tomoyo's door was open.

It was close to two o'clock in the morning; Kurogane's legs were pleasantly sore as he walked up the steps to his apartment, stepping from the stairwell into the hall. If ever he was looking forward to a long night of sleep, this was it, but from the corner of his eye he noticed something: Tomoyo's front door was cracked open by about an inch, and from within a quiet shuffling came to an abrupt, unnatural silence.

His mind kicked into overdrive, suddenly alert: if Tomoyo was home, her door would be shut, locked – it wouldn't be open at two in the morning, no lights on. He squinted, peering more closely through the darkness at the little bobby pin that had been shoved into her lock. Kurogane's hand reached instinctually for his sidearm and gripped nothing but air. He could risk getting into his apartment and getting his gun, but whoever had broken in had already heard the door open, not to mention his footsteps in the hall, waiting now.

The smart thing to do would be to shut the door, lock it, and call the police from his cell phone, trapping the intruder inside…which wouldn't work, he realized, because Tomoyo's apartment had a balcony that connected to the stairwell on the outside of the building.

The burglar seemed to know this; Kurogane heard the sound of footsteps running.

Gun or no, he rushed into the room, his anger blinding his judgment; on top of everything else that had been thrown at him this week, someone in New York City had the goddamn _audacity _to break into _his _cousin's apartment, right across from his own. Well, _fuck them. _He'd give the papers something to talk about.

It was pitch dark in the apartment, but unlike the burglar, Kurogane knew the layout. He leapt over the couch and tackled someone to the floor – someone _small. _

He heard a shout behind him, and then suddenly a glass lamp shattered over his back, and warm, hot blood began to soak through his shirt, the shards digging into his skin. He grit his teeth and kept one firm hand on what was most assuredly either a midget or a child, pinning the person to the floor by the neck, and turned on his knees to meet the second attacker.

A surprisingly powerful kick connected with his ribs, not enough to fracture any, but enough to leave him winded. The kid below him (he'd decided it was a kid by the strangled whimpering sounds it was making) was digging its nails into his wrist, struggling to get him off, and the other attacker (also a kid, he decided, judging from its shape in the darkness) was rushing at him again. Kurogane ducked and moved to his feet, dragging the first kid up with him, and yanked him back down the hallway.

In one fluid, angry movement, with blood sliding down his spine, he slammed the front door shut, threw the first kid down to the floor, and turned on the hallway light.

Two very different expressions met him from two otherwise identical people. He was right about the burglars being kids: two identical twins, no older than seven, stared at him with matching brown eyes and matching unkempt brown hair. The bigger, more healthy looking of the two was standing five feet in front of him, his back to the couch, crouched in some sort of fighting pose, the sort of protective yet assertive stance that street kids picked up in order to protect themselves, no art and all function. He was dirty, his clothes tattered and stained with the grime of the darkest parts of New York City, and his skin had the pinched look of someone who hadn't eaten anything lately.

The boy on the ground at Kurogane's feet was the smaller of the two, well on his way to malnourishment. He was in a much worse state: fresh, clean bandages had been wrapped around his arm and leg (and Kurogane noticed now, with the light on, that Tomoyo's bathroom door was open, the cabinets emptied of their supplies), but already blood was seeping through, pus staining the edges an unsightly yellow. His clothes and body were every bit as dirty, but while the bigger twin was glaring at him with desperation and rage, terror stared up at him through the other boy's single good eye, gleaming with the unnatural brightness of a fever. His left eye was swollen shut, the lashes crusted with what was unmistakably pus and dried blood and some sort of darker liquid that couldn't be good.

"Christ." Kurogane broke the curse off with a fury.

The bigger twin rushed forward, ducking as Kurogane made to grab him; the boy twisted on one foot and brought the other up in a kick aimed squarely at the underside of his jaw. The boy, probably used to fighting kids his own size, had badly misjudged how tall Kurogane was; he caught the boy by the ankle and spun him, sending him crashing down onto the carpet next to his brother.

Kurogane leaned down, grabbing the smaller twin by the scruff of his hair and forcibly turning his head to the side to look down at the swollen eye. The other twin rushed at him again; Kurogane looked up with a glare so acute that the boy froze, his face white.

"He's hurt." The boy's voice was shaking. "We just needed some medicine."

"You could have gone to a fucking hospital," he snapped back. Below him, the smaller twin had ceased his struggles altogether, his body slackening with despair.

"They'll put us in a home."

"And then you'll be forced to shower and get free meals and a loving family. What's the fucking problem?"

The boy stepped forward, his boldness returning. "We might get split up. We don't want that."

Kurogane reached out and touched the swollen eye; the eyelid sunk inward with his pressure. Whatever was under there was broken, half-liquefied. The boy cried out in earnest pain, straining against him.

"Christ," he said again, his voice rising in anger. "Do you have any idea how badly infected this is?"

"We were trying to get medicine –"

"_Shut up and sit down!_"

The boy did as he was told, not daring Kurogane's wrath: he sat close to his twin and reached out, gripping his brother's hand.

Kurogane stood up and moved away, flipping open his phone. _Most recent calls: _he went to press Fai's name and stopped himself with an inward curse, calling Yuuko's cell instead. _She's going to fucking kill me, _he thought.

Yet Yuuko sounded neither tired nor surprised; instead, the phone picked up after only the first ring, as if she had expected him to call. She always had a knack for the uncanny.

Before she could speak, Kurogane was talking rapidly. "Can you get over to my place?"

"I had hoped – dare I say, _prayed _for this day, Kurogane – when you would call me for a, oh…what is it the kids call it these days? Don't tell me, let me think – ah, yes. A _booty call._"

"I don't have time to joke." He looked down at the younger twin and noticed the sweat beading on his forehead. "Some kids broke into Tomoyo's apartment; I've got them here, but one of them is badly hurt. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Yuuko's humor fell away, replaced by a dry seriousness. "Are they homeless?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"Take them to a hospital. Charity care will cover it."

"They'll put up a fight."

The older twin heard this and looked up sharply, preparing to do just that at the suggestion.

"Fight back."

"Against _kids?_"

A sigh drifted through the phone. "You gunned down a man in the streets of New York City, and I know you didn't have a single regret when you did it and you never will…but when it comes to kids, you always were a big teddy bear."

"Yuuko –"

"Don't get all growly – you'll scare the kids. I can be there in twenty minutes. Keep them there till then."

He hung up, walked back over to the twins, and spoke in the most authoritative, demanding voice he had. "What's your names?"

"Syaoran."

"And his?"

"We're both Syaoran."

"The fuck you are," he snapped. "One of you can be Syaoran – pick another name for yourself or I'll give you one."

The bigger twin swallowed, looked down at his twin, and nodded. "We've always both gone by Syaoran…but you can call him that."

"And you?"

"Tsubasa."

"Tsubasa." Kurogane jerked his head toward the bathroom. "This is my cousin's apartment. Get in there and clean up that mess."

"My brother –"

"We're going to stay here till help arrives. Do as I say or I'll _lock _you in there."

It was a tense twenty minutes; he didn't speak to the boys again, but the smaller one seemed to be getting worse, his condition exacerbated by the stress he had just been put through. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and when a knock came at the door, Kurogane all but ripped it off the handle, dragging Yuuko inside.

She was out of her uniform, in long jeans that flared out at the bottom, a red biker jacket zipped up neatly to her neck, a helmet tucked under one arm. Her long hair had been swept back into an all-business ponytail, and her eyes moved over the scene – Kurogane's bloodstained back, shirt ripped through with glass shards, the gasping boy on the ground, his alert, nervous twin by his side – and sighed.

"Hello." She crouched down in front of the twins, holding out her hand. Tsubasa eyed her with suspicion and made no move. She smiled – a real, genuine smile, something Kurogane himself had rarely seen her do, though he had heard such a thing was possible – and nodded at his caution. "You're a good brother."

The tension left the boy's shoulders. He reached forward and tentatively shook her hand, his eyes flitting between her and Kurogane. Yuuko pulled away and touched Syaoran's head gently.

"Your brother is running a very high fever," she explained. "He needs medical attention very badly. We're going to take you to the hospital –"

"_No!" _Tsubasa gripped his twin's hand tighter, drawing his limp arm up to his chest. "Please," he begged. "Can't you – can't you just help us, here? We're sorry about breaking in, we didn't take anything except the stuff from under the cabinet, we'll _go_ –"

Yuuko reached forward with both hands and gently pried apart Tsubasa's fingers from Syaoran's. Syaoran's hand fell lifelessly away, and Kurogane watched as a change came over the boy's face: his eyes were suddenly glassy, the edges of his mouth trembled, and his shoulders tensed. Yuuko suddenly drew him in by his shoulders, pressing the seven-year-old against her, and held him as his body was wracked with silent sobs.

Wordlessly, Kurogane kneeled down next to her and lifted Syaoran up into his arms; the little boy had faded away into a world of fevered delirium – his good eye fluttered open for a moment and just as soon fell shut as he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

They had taken Kurogane's squad car to the hospital, leaving Yuuko's bike at his place, and Yuuko had nodded when he flipped the lights on, giving them free reign on New York City's streets. Two hours had passed since they had first arrived in the emergency room and been told it would be, at best, a five-hour wait to see a doctor. Yuuko had politely pulled out her badge and informed them who she was, instructing the staff that the boys were high priority, and then sat next to Kurogane, sighing. "Well, now I can't say I've never abused my authority," she had said. "How about you?"

He didn't reply.

They took the two boys away, Tsubasa too exhausted to protest, and disappeared beyond the double doors. Kurogane left a voicemail for Tomoyo, explaining what had happened and why there would be shattered glass and blood all over her living room.

They hadn't spoken to each other again until, around four thirty in the morning, Yuuko asked him a question.

"Why did you call me?"

He had folded his arms tightly across his chest and closed his eyes, feigning an attempt to get sleep. "You mean why did I ruin your Friday night?"

"I didn't ask that, and you didn't ruin it. I asked why you chose to call me. Why not Souma?"

"Dunno."

Yuuko's voice was patient. "Was there no one else you thought to call?"

His eyes opened; he gave her a sideways glance and replied with a noncommittal, "Not really."

"You're worried about them, those boys," she said. "You've got a reputation for being one of the meanest people on the force, but I know you. You've always reminded me of your father. He had a soft spot for kids, like you."

He shifted uncomfortably. "You're worried, too," he muttered. "That's why you're still here."

"I am worried, but not about them." She placed a hand on his shoulder. Kurogane grunted.

"Those kids…what will happen to them after they get out of the hospital?"

"They'll be handed over to Child Protective Services, who will attempt to find and contact any biological relatives. During that time they'll be placed in foster care."

"Together?"

"Most likely not, but one does hope." Yuuko surveyed him, reading his thoughts. "Is that why they didn't go to a hospital sooner?"

He didn't say anything, his silence answering her. They were a pair of dirty, homeless street orphans – _it's like something out of a fucking Lifetime movie, _he thought – and he was furiously turning over their situation in his head, angry at what their desperation had cost them, trying to find a way to help. Kids…_forget them, _he thought. He was over-tired and miserable and not thinking straight…

"How do people become a foster person?"

"_Parent. _Foster _parent. _Kurogane, listen to me." Yuuko turned to face him, her voice stern, but gentle. "Kids aren't like cats – you can't just take them in off the street, give them food and water, and call them yours. There are laws and paperwork, and while I find it revolting to acknowledge this, there are just as many stray cats as kids out there on the streets of New York City. Look at me." He already was, but now his gaze sharpened, obeying her instructions, _really _looking at her. "I've been watching you for the last few weeks. You've been acting like a man carrying a heavy regret – something deep, something heavy – and while you've always done nothing less than your personal best, I've watched you giving more and more of yourself, like you're trying to balance out some sort of karmic weight in the universe. I've seen people do that before. Kurogane, whatever you're trying to make up for, this is not the way to do it."

Kurogane glared at her, unmoved.

"You're thinking about your father."

"_Tch._" His eyes shifted away, unable to meet that penetrating gaze any longer.

"You are. You can look across the room and not at me, but I know you," she repeated. "You're thinking right now like a man who's made some sort of mistake and wants to make reparations; you're asking yourself what your father would do, and I am telling you that he would do what was best for those kids: allow CPS to take over and find them a good home. You're a single man working full-time. You couldn't raise a plant, let alone a pair of boys. This is an absurd thing you're considering, and don't deny that you're considering it – I can see your thoughts as plain as the glass stuck in your back. You haven't even put your name down on the waiting list to see a doctor because you don't want to risk not being here for the news of how those boys are doing."

The truth would have stung less if she had at least sounded angry when talking to him, but her voice was low and kind, and when he looked back into her gaze, her empathy was sincere. She was waiting for him to speak when a nurse emerged from the emergency doors, clipboard in hand.

"Are you Yuuko?" When she nodded, he went on, hurriedly talking through the major points: Tsubasa was underweight, but not by too much, with a few scrapes and abrasions about him. He was suffering from exhaustion and dehydration but could otherwise be expected to bounce back in a few days. Syaoran was a different story: he was malnourished and weak, running a high fever of 106, with gashes in both his right arm and leg that needed twenty four and forty-three stitches, respectively. Of greater concern was his left eye: at some point it had sustained an injury, partially rupturing it, and the resulting liquids had sealed it shut as it swelled up and became infected. He had been rushed into emergency surgery, where nurses had drained the pus out and scooped out the remaining matter from the eye socket, unable to save the eye. It would take time to heal, but once done, he could have the socket filled with a glass eye; brown was an easy color to match, the nurse assured him.

When the man left, Kurogane got up and moved to the desk in the emergency room, jotting down his name on the list. He was politely told to expect to wait about four hours. _That's one less from before and I've already been here two. _It was like playing one hell of a losing hand of poker.

He sat back down, his gaze straight ahead.

"You once told me there was no such thing as coincidence." He fixed his eyes on the double doors, knowing full well that a little seven-year-old would wake up soon and rush off to find his twin brother, crawling into bed with him in whatever ward he was stashed away in. He knew this like he knew the sun would rise in two hours, like he knew his body ached and his mind was desperate for sleep. "You told me that the night my father died. It took me a long time to figure out what you meant that day – specifically. He was about to carry out an operation to corner Fei-Wang Reed, and instead Reed had it all set up for him. Someone had ratted him out – an informant."

Yuuko nodded. "Kyle Rondart."

"He was a double agent. He was dipping into the pockets of the NYPD for years and then he decided to throw those people's lives away."

"Twelve men, including your father, were killed that night."

"Yes. And you delivered the news. Back then, at that moment…did you know what had happened?"

Yuuko nodded, watching as a man came stumbling through the hospital doors, drunk with a broken arm. "From the moment I met Kyle, I knew he would turn on us, and I cautioned all of my superiors of my belief. No one would listen; Clow wasn't Commissioner, then, either, so my voice was alone. It must be a hard thing to imagine someone above _me,_" she added, a small smile of a memory gracing her lips. "But there was such a time. He had everyone else fooled, but I can assure you, no one has fooled me yet."

Kurogane sat up straighter and looked at her full in the face. "I called you tonight because I trust you. You trust these officers working undercover for you now, and I've never second-guessed your judgment and never once thought, 'What if the same thing happens to me as my father?' I'm doing my best to do my job, and part of what makes it bearable is knowing that even if I fuck up, I have you to back me, and when I saw those kids…they don't have anyone like that. I knew what that felt like, once."

"Tomoyo's mother and father took you in, as I recall. You had family to turn to."

"Even with blood relatives, it still felt like shit. You said –"

"There is no such thing as coincidence." Yuuko nodded, and she rose. "I said it once; I say it often. I believe it. There are many uncertainties in this world, but there are just as many inevitabilities. If you choose to believe that this is one of them, then your belief makes it so. I can't argue with you or try to reason with you, because I can see your mind is made up, but you know where I stand on this. What are you asking of me?"

Red eyes glanced up at the ceiling. "Think you can abuse your power a little more?"

She chuckled. "I have a friend over at CPS who owes me a rather substantial favor. I can call her once the sun rises and see if we can set up a meeting for Monday."

"Today."

"Today is Saturday."

"_Today_."

"Keep your phone on you, then. I can't make any promises. Try and get some rest."

"How are you going to get back?"

"Oh, Kurogane." Yuuko huffed, annoyed. "Try and worry about yourself for once. I'll take the subway, go home, soak in the bath till dawn and smoke some of the best tobacco money can buy. Eventually I'll come back, get my bike, and then I hope to be drunk by noon."

"Make the phone call first."

Yuuko raised a hand in a gesture of goodbye, her long hair snapping behind her as the doors to the hospital closed. Kurogane shifted in his seat, closed his eyes, and continued to wait as the room slowly lightened with the coming of the dawn.

* * *

It was two in the afternoon; Kurogane had spent the better part of the morning leaning over a table as forceps ripped shards of glass out of his skin. Gauze was taped over his back, which had made showering difficult. He'd ripped it all off in frustration, roared bloody murder at the feeling of hot water on open wounds, and sat like a whipped dog as Tomoyo gently dabbed at him with peroxide and reapplied new tape and gauze. Yuuko had come through for him; CPS Officer Oruha had agreed to meet with him in his place at 4 p.m. Tomoyo was busy getting everything completely cleaned up, but she had politely declined the offer to be there when the officer arrived. Her presence would be tantamount to lying, she said; "We live separate lives, Kurogane – she's just doing her job, and if she says no…"

"They've got to go somewhere – they might as well come here," he'd replied. Kurogane could see in Tomoyo's eyes that she plainly expected the woman to tell him no, he wasn't fit to be a foster parent.

He probably wasn't; he'd gone from Lieutenant to potential foster father in a matter of twelve hours without ever so much as considering it before. If someone had told him on Monday that, at the end of the week, he'd be willing to have his Chief illegally call in favors and pull some strings so he could foster a pair of twin boys, he would have told them to fuck off. Put it that way, and it sounded abstract and absurd, but when Kurogane pictured the boys again – Tsubasa, knuckles white as he gripped his brother's hand, shoulders shaking as he sobbed into Yuuko's jacket, or Syaoran, his body limp, good eye fever-bright…it was all a little too real. Maybe kids really were his soft spot: Yuuko probably thought he was secretly insane and had set this up to humor him, but the twins had pick-pocketed their way into his life, and Kurogane hadn't believed in coincidence in years. He believed in responsibility.

He was busy wiping down the kitchen counter when his phone chimed across the room.

"Oh!" Tomoyo looked up, holding his cell phone. "It's Fai. He says, '_What are you up to? Want to get together?'_ What should I say?"

Maybe he didn't believe in coincidence, but he _could _believe in bad timing and blondes. Kurogane grunted, ill-humored. "Tell him I can't, I've got a date."

At quarter to four, Tomoyo politely excused herself, and at 4:05 p.m., a polite knocking came at his door.

He let Officer Oruha in, watching as she sniffed the air: the apartment smelled _too _clean, like a front. She moved past him, all grace and beauty: luscious black curls fell away from her face, gathering in bunches around her pale shoulders. She had the sort of lips that men and women both would dream of kissing – full, red, soft – and she sat neatly down on the couch, her hips settling as her legs crossed elegantly at the knees.

Kurogane sat across from her, waiting for her to speak.

"Yuuko tells me you're interested in becoming a foster parent."

"Quickly."

"Mm." Oruha looked around his place, asking him questions in a soft, politely interested voice without coming off as intrusive. Did he live alone? (Yes). Work full time? (Yes). Have health insurance, car insurance, life insurance, dental insurance, renter's insurance? (Yes, he answered, and it was all pretty fucking expensive). Work benefits? (Yes). Siblings? (No). Significant other? (Kurogane hesitated, and Oruha stared at him, waiting: No). Pets? (No). Ever? (No). What if the kids wanted pets? (No). Do you mean that? (No). Hobbies? (Drinking, he almost said, and stopped himself before winning the Worst Possible Answer award, settling for 'exercising').

"Yuuko told me about your home life growing up, and your parents." Kurogane let out a sigh of relief as she moved on to other questions without anything saying more on that particular subject. Where would the kids sleep? (The couch had a pull-out bed. He could move). Would it be realistic to move? (His lease was month-to-month, so he could move next week, if he had to). How were his finances? (Fine). Fine enough to support two growing children? (Yes). That was a trick question – the state would supply money to go toward the kids, but the reality was that foster parents still had to make up some ground.

After an hour and a half of this, Oruha stared at him thoughtfully. "Tell me: why do you want to foster those boys? Those _particular_ boys. We have no paperwork on you, so I assume you've never thought of fostering before until yesterday."

Technically, he hadn't thought of it until _today, _but he didn't bother to correct her. Kurogane thought about this, wondering what the _right _answer would be, and gave up, speaking from the heart. He gave a simple answer and hoped it would convey what he really meant.

"I can't unknow them."

Oruha nodded and rose. "I'll be frank with you. You aren't the sort of person who would normally be approved for fostering, based simply on your living conditions – it's clean, but there's no room for the boys…yet. You're aware that I owe Yuuko a debt – did she tell you I'm a CPS officer?"

He tensed. "You aren't?"

"I was, back when we met, but not technically anymore – I'm the Director of the New York State Office of Children and Family Services, so let's say…a bit higher than a CPS officer. I would be lying if I said it wasn't in my power to rush your paperwork through and get you approved to take those boys home from the hospital in a matter of days. It would be a gross abuse of my power, but it is within my ability to do so."

His eyes narrowed. "But will you?"

"That I don't know." Her voice was suddenly thought, but a smile lingered on her lips. "I've done it before. A man, once, a police officer like yourself, wanted to foster another young man some time ago, an older teen…and I pushed it through."

"And it ended badly?"

"No." Her smile stretched wide now, beautiful and genuine. "It was one of the most perfect matches I've ever made, but no two people are the same…but I see a lot of him in you." She paused in the doorway. "It was nice meeting you, Kurogane. I'll be in touch."

"Wait."

Sleek black eyebrows rose. Kurogane paused, knowing he might be overstepping a boundary, and did so anyways. "Yuuko. What did she do for you?"

"Ah." Oruha gave a smile that would have brought a barroom to its knees, coy and loving and sweet all at the same time. "Yuuko collects debts like the rest of us breathe air. I wanted to adopt a certain little girl. Yuuko helped with that. It's a long story – let's just say you'd be hard-pressed to find someone in this city whose life she hasn't touched."

* * *

Kurogane was just beginning to wonder what to do about dinner and whether or not he should skip it and head straight to bed (he was exhausted) when a knock came at his door around 7.

Tomoyo looked up at him, but instead of asking how the meeting went, said, "Are you expecting Fai?"

He blinked. "No."

"He's outside. I passed him on the way up…he's just sitting on the steps. I said hello, but he seemed a little…down."

Fai was seated on the front steps of the brownstone; he didn't look up when the door opened behind him, but when Kurogane called his name, he jerked around, surprised.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

Kurogane inclined his head inside. "So why didn't you come up?"

"I was waiting for you to get home. From your date," he added, his eyes shifting away.

"Oh. That was a joke. I had a meeting, but I've been home. Come on up."

Fai followed him up the stairs; the door swung shut behind them, and Kurogane turned to him, pointing to the kitchen. "You want something to drink or –"

Whatever else he was going to offer him never escaped. Fai moved forward suddenly and grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt, jerking him toward him. Lips, needy and desperate, pressed against him so hard that their teeth jarred together. For one moment Kurogane kissed him back, their tongues fighting against each other in an effort to explore one another, and then he was shoving Fai away from him.

"What the _hell_…?"  
Fai came at him again until Kurogane was backed against the sofa. The gardener's hands found his shirt, gripping him close, then let go only to slide up and around his neck, pulling him down. Warning bells sounded with the resonance of a cathedral's dirge in his skull, but Kurogane ignored them and let his hands rest on Fai's hips, sliding down to grab his rear and pull him up into him. Fai responded with a throaty hum, kissing him again, and throwing all caution to the winds and half-thinking this was a dream anyways, Kurogane slid his tongue over Fai's lips, pressing against the roof his mouth, touching the tip of Fai's own tongue, tasting the body that was warm and pressed against him, a growing, hot need burning in him.

He shoved Fai away a second time, and now the blond stood panting, looking at him with a sheepish grin on his face.

"I can't keep up with you." Kurogane moved away and sank into the couch, holding his head in exasperation. "We can't keep going back and forth like this."

"…I don't want us to."

"You've got one hell of a way of saying, 'Thanks, but no thanks,' then."

"…That's not what I'm saying." Fai came around the couch and sat next to him, close enough to rest his hand on Kurogane's thigh. "I'm saying I…I've changed my mind."

Kurogane didn't believe it; he laughed. Fai stared at him, wounded, and pressed on, talking in that quick, quiet way he had before, when he had told Kurogane he wasn't interest in him 'like that.'

"You don't understand. I got your text, about you being on a date, and the thought of you out with someone who wasn't me was…horrible." He had grown suddenly serious, and sensing his vulnerability, sought to cover it up again with a grin. "I like you too much, Kuro-sama! You wouldn't want me to be jealous, would you?"

There was a saying that Kusanagi had once told him: _don't stick your dick in crazy. _Fai looked at him with a half-manic, half-desperate appeal, as if he might break at any moment because of some incredible stress and desire he had fallen victim to, and Kurogane knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, why so many people kept sticking their dicks in someone crazy.

Some of the crazies were irresistibly cute, especially with little silver earrings and their hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Is this a game?" Kurogane pushed himself further away, struggling against his own already dissolving willpower. "Are we just going to go back and forth again, or are you serious?"

"I'm serious." Fai's voice had dropped to a whisper, but he reached out again, not wanting any space between them. "I've been doing a lot of thinking since last night, and I…want to give this a try. I want to go slowly, though, and do things on my own time…if you want to."

Kurogane looked into those blue eyes and decided he could give "slowly" a try. He nodded, still not quite trusting Fai to have made his mind up, half expecting him to suddenly bolt out the door, and asked, "What now?"

Fai leaned in and kissed him, this time nervously, no longer fueled by adrenaline. A shaking arm reached up and ran long fingers through his short hair, trailing their coolness down his face, his neck. Kurogane sat up and made to push Fai down, but the gardener stiffened suddenly, pulling back. Kurogane settled back and instead let Fai slide on top of him; he was lying flat on the couch now, ignoring the stinging in his back as Fai's lean legs straddled him, trying not to gasp as the man left a trail of kisses on his neck until finally coming back to his lips.

Kurogane titled his head back and felt a soft tongue press inside him as he brought his arms up to pull Fai down and closer. His face was growing flushed; when Fai pulled away to kiss his cheeks, his lips felt cool, and when Fai leaned down to suck on his earlobe like Kurogane had done to him, like a man practicing a learned behavior he was eager to try out, Kurogane finally lost his grip on the groan that had been building in the back of his throat.

He felt himself getting hard; his voice was hoarse, measured as he asked, "How slow did you mean?"

Fai stopped sucking at his ear and sat up suddenly, pushing off of his chest. He moved off Kurogane completely and stood now in the living room, holding his arms behind his back just like on the first day they'd met.

"Slow," he winced, trying to form an apology and not finding quite the right words to do so. "It's just…it's been awhile." His eyes pleaded with him not to ask for further explanation, not to call him out on his lie.

Kurogane remembered the look that had been in his eyes that day in the park: haunted, defeated. He stood up and approached Fai until they stood face-to-face, and very gently, as if afraid that Fai would suddenly push him away again, he traced under the gardener's jaw line with his forefinger, lifting his gaze up to him.

"What happened in your past is behind you. If you say slow, then we'll go as slow."

"What if I just wanted to kiss you?" Hope and disbelief mingled, fighting for dominance in Fai's gaze.

Kurogane smirked. "You're not a bad kisser, so I could live with that."

"What about –"

Kurogane leaned down and kissed him long enough to make him forget whatever it was he was going to ask. "As slow as you want," he said. "Just promise me something."

"Mm?"

"Promise you're not going to change your mind. Don't do this to me today and then tomorrow say you aren't willing to try anymore."

Fai stared at him in open surprise; his mouth shut, his gaze lowered, and he nodded.

"I promise."

"If we're going to mess around, or date…or whatever you want to call it, then I have one more question." Fai waited, listening. "What's your last name?"

He laughed. "Oh, Kuro-tan, you're a one-track pony, always asking questions. Fine, you win. It's Fluorite."

He stayed the night, though he slept on the couch. They ordered Chinese take-out and watched an old Shogun movie that was on a black-and-white station, Kurogane's arm around his waist, fingers curling over his hip: he was a perfect fit. Kurogane kept trying to find a way to bring up what had happened the previous night, to mention that, "By the way, I might be taking in a couple of kids," but he never got the chance. Later, his back pressed against the refrigerator, Fai refused to let him speak, kissing him with all the fascination of someone who had only just discovered what kissing was. He fumbled once with the buttons on his shirt, and Kurogane thought for sure he'd get his opportunity to mention, off-handedly, "I'm about to be a foster parent" when Fai eventually saw the bandages on his back, but the gardener stopped suddenly: they never got that far. His hands stilled after a single button, his eyes locked on the window of Kurogane's dark flesh that had appeared, and fell away completely. Caught between two polarities of wanting him and the fear of what that might entail, Fai backed off like a skittish cat, grinning like a madcap to try and lighten the situation. He wished he wouldn't grin like that; he wanted to tell him to just be sad if he was sad, but he didn't know how Fai really felt, because Fai wouldn't let him. He hid whole chunks of himself behind that impeccable, so-close-to-believable-it-hurt-to-look-at smile.

The night wore on; Kurogane kissed Fai a lingering goodnight and went into his room; he left the door ajar, in case…well, in case the impossible happened, which it didn't, and was asleep from the moment he turned out the light.

* * *

He met with Oruha again on Sunday, who returned with a folder fit to burst with forms he needed to fill out. Fai had left in the morning before he'd woken up, but not before fixing him a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast, which he had covered with tin foil to keep warm. A note lay next to the plate, covered in flowing, curling script: "_Your pans suck, as does your food selection. Let's go shopping! Give me a call when you're free. Will be working all day._" He'd cleaned everything up again by the time Oruha got there.

She sat down and assured him again that what she was going to do was strictly against procedure – not technically the _law, _she said, as she was going to go by the book with this – just _procedure._

"I'll adjust the dates on the paperwork to 60 days ago so that it looks like we've done everything in order for your approval," she said. In reality, Kurogane would be completing the approval process as he was fostering the twins.

"You sure that's not against the law?"  
"_Procedure,_" she emphasized again, and winked.

They did a second interview, this one far more in depth, that lasted close to two hours. He admitted to having no experience raising children, a fact which didn't seem to bother Oruha ("Most parents don't," she explained), and further, no experience with kids who came from a background of possible abuse or neglect. They spent a half hour alone on a section of paperwork called "Approach to Discipline."

"Can I beat them?"

"Yuuko warned me that you have an odd sense of humor. Let's not joke about this – we're doing 60 days worth of forms in a single afternoon, so I need you to be serious."

Kurogane did his best to hide his surprise; he _was _being serious. _So, no, can't beat 'em, _he thought. He thought back to how his father had disciplined him growing up: there hadn't been much disciplining to do, really. One look of disappointment was enough to set him straight for a good six or eight months before he'd dare step out of line again.

While Oruha conducted a formal home study, Kurogane dug out a folder he kept with his important paperwork, hunting for his medical history. "You'll also need to see a physician within the next week and have a physical done. I'm sure you'll be fine, but we require a report from a licensed medical professional attesting to your health and well being," she said in a practiced, business tone. The State didn't want to hand over kids to a person about to clock out permanently, it seemed.

He'd have to submit to a criminal history check; that was fine, it was clean (he'd had to do that when he went to the academy). Three letters of recommendation needed to be submitted on his behalf attesting to his morals and character (he knew Yuuko and Tomoyo would be willing to write a letter each for him, but he'd probably end up having to pick up one of Souma's shifts to get one from her).

They spent another hour on evaluating his mental ability to be a foster parent; each question was more annoying the last, beginning with "What do you think foster parents do?"

When his patience was growing thin, Oruha had helpfully added, "The idea is to get a picture of how you conceive of your role in these children's lives, _really,_ and not what you think – based on movies or cultural expectations – your role will be." She explained that there was no telling how long he would have to foster them; the kids would be up for adoption if no relatives could be found, and the agency would do their best to try and place them in a permanent home together, but if he was willing to keep them together until that happened, it would be good for the boys. It could be a matter of weeks; it could be a matter of months. Many months.

He signed off on a form that would allow the agency to run his info through the State Central Register of Child Abuse and Maltreatment, smirking as he did so. "If anyone has ever reported you for child abuse, we'll know," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "Pretty useless if I was never reported."

Oruha's lips pursed, and then she made a little note under the "Attitude" section on his foster profile. Kurogane sat up straighter and answered the rest of her questions very, very politely.

She'd been over for five hours now. Kurogane had gotten up to make some coffee when she put the paperwork back into the manila folder.

"We done?"

"Oh, no," she said. She stood up and smoothed the folds in her skirt. "Now we have our one-on-one foster parent orientation. Pour yourself a big cup of coffee – you'll need it."

He listened intently as she gave him a crash course on what to expect housing not one, but two kids. Don't expect them to be grateful or to like you; expect your stuff to potentially be stolen. Be _patient_.

"Get a safe." Oruha pointed at his duty belt. "Keep your weapons in it at all times, and keep the safe locked."

"They wouldn't be able to get the gun out," he started, but Oruha held a hand up to silence him.

"I know about law enforcement holsters, but you need to readjust your way of thinking. It's not just about making this environment a physically safe place for them; having a gun out – even holstered – adds the sense of something dangerous to the atmosphere. We don't know their history yet." Oruha sighed. "That's my job when I leave here, actually; I'm heading over to the hospital to speak with them both."

"How are they…?"

"Tsubasa is doing well and can be released within two days – that means you have two days to get this place kid-proof, get them the things they'll need – clothes, toothbrushes, food – before he comes here. Syaoran is in a bit of a worse state, but the doctor I spoke with said that he should be out by the end of the week; he'll have a glass eye by then. I'll relay whatever I find out to you so that you have a complete record to refer to. As you work full time, I'll need you to immediately hire a baby sitter or place them in a day care of some sort and submit documentation that they will have supervision while you're at work. It's too late to enroll them for the end of the school term, so we'll arrange to have their education evaluated – they might be able to start third grade in the fall or they may need to hang back in second and get remedial tutoring over the summer, which the agency will help pay for, but they might potentially be out of here by then. It's a lot to consider, but for now, just focus on getting them a baby-sitter…"

The last thing they did was set up a direct deposit with his bank account for the foster funds. Oruha gave him a checklist of things to get for the kids and a pamphlet.

"I saved the best for last," she smiled. "This isn't technically required, but I am requesting, as a favor to me for doing all of this for you on my day off so that I am left with no regrets or doubts, that you seriously consider doing it." The pamphlet listed the upcoming dates for pre-certification meetings for a training program called Parenting Preparation: there were twelve, two-hour meetings in the evenings over the next two months.

"At these meetings, you would obviously not mention that you are _already _fostering during this time, as it's supposed to be a pre-certification service," she suggested.

"I'll do it." He would tell everyone at the precinct that he was attending AA meetings, if he could get away with it, but he'd do it.

"Are you nervous?" Oruha smiled in her disarming way, but Kurogane laughed. Part of his academy training involved being Tased and pepper-sprayed in the face.

"Nah."

Oruha laughed right back at him. "I'll file that under the section 'Famous Last Words,'" she kidded, and gathered her stuff. "Should I relay a message to the boys from you?"

He hadn't thought of that. Kurogane looked at the couch (which would be filled with two twin boys by next week), at his duty belt (which would be locked in a safe), his apartment (which would soon be more than just _his _home), and shrugged in a poor attempt at nonchalance.

"Tell them 'Get better,'" he said.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Although they didn't appear in Tsubasa, Clover fans can guess (correctly) that Oruha is referring to Gingetsu and Ran, and that the girl she adopted in this world is Su...because Su deserves a happy ending, somewhere.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** **Thanks, May!** No problem, I know all about getting up early (and I hate it). Posting early again to say thanks for reading! **Thanks, Zelinxia!** You're cracking me up - you're like a sleuth! As to your musings, hmm, you'll have to wait to find out, I suppose! And yep, Clover makes me T_T as well. **Thanks, Mindless Adri!** Fic updates are an essential part of a well-balanced breakfast! Well, they go grocery shopping off camera, but if domestic is your kink, stick around...I think I'll keep you pleased! **Hi and thank you, renlylittlerose!** Everyone is being so smart trying to figure out what's going on that I had to throw you all off with the Syaoran pair - they are adorable and I want to squeeze 7-year-old Syaoran's cheeks because b'aww :D **Thanks, Dark Mouse!** I'm a fan of crossovers myself; as for Miyuki, she DOES have a tendency to show up everywhere, doesn't she? ;) **Thanks, Reikah!** Curioser and curioser! Yes, he will be a busy guy - but just HOW busy? Well, you'll see... **Thanks Karma Kat!** Wouldn't be a Tsubasa fic without 'em when I've got the whole rest of the CLAMP universe in here, would it? (Haha). **Thanks, ShingetsuXMangetsu!** I am so happy I can make your day! :D **Thanks, xwittychickx!** That's a perfectly valid critique to make! In my defense, while it varies by department, police have the authority to use deadly force against armed suspects or in cases of a fleeing individual if the suspect's escape would pose an immediate threat to other individuals, so the police act accordingly here, but Inuki's roll is slightly embellished - as a patrol dog, he *would* be trained for "track and attack" (although, depending on the breed used, this is also known as "bite and hold"), but he would be trained to go for the right arm (most people hold weapons in their right hand), not the throat, so you're right on that that's a little intense (I couldn't help it; Inuki is too cool, even if it ruins the verisimilitude)! As always, thanks for your time and reviews - hope you enjoy!

* * *

On Monday night, Kurogane took two shots of a particularly strong liquor before heading over to Fai's place for dinner after work. Fai opened the door, all smiles, took one look at Kurogane's face, and stepped out of his way.

"I have something to tell you."

He sat down on the couch; Fai's nieces had left their stuffed animals at his place again. He had a few items left to get from the list Oruha had given him, but toys hadn't occurred to him – what sort of toys did kids play with at seven? He'd been really into swords, and not play ones, either, but real, gleaming steel. It might reflect poorly on his first evaluation report next week if Oruha found out he got the kids weapons to play with…

"Kurogane?"

"I'm going to be a foster parent." He had intended to formulate it more subtly, lead into and eventually bring it up, and instead just blurted it out.

"You…you're what?" Fai sat down next to him, mouth slightly agape.

"A foster parent," Kurogane repeated. "I've already done all the paperwork. I'm taking in twin boys."

Fai was still looking at him as if he was speaking some sort of foreign language Kurogane himself had invented. "Twins," he said slowly, followed by, "Why…_When_ are you doing this…?"

"I can pick up the first one tomorrow, and the second one on Sunday."

"…This isn't a joke." Fai was studying him, waiting for him to laugh, but Kurogane was staring at him intently, serious. "When did you decide this?"

"Saturday morning."

"…Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

"Couldn't find a way to do it." Kurogane cleared his throat and wished he had had a third drink. "You didn't sign up to mess around with someone with kids, so I thought you should know…in case you want to change your mind. I won't hold you to your promise."

Slowly, Fai began to come out of his stupor. He cocked his head curiously to the side, eyes squinting, as if he was still trying to reconcile his mental picture of Kurogane with the man in front of him, but this new addition to the puzzle wasn't quite fitting. The whole puzzle had to be reshaped to help him make sense of it, and as he did, Fai pushed his bangs out of his face, amazed. He asked a few of the same questions Oruha had – _have you ever raised kids? Can you take care of them, really? _– and then fell silent, still trying to absorb the information, lost in his own thoughts.

"I was in foster care, when I was little."

Fai spoke so quietly that Kurogane wasn't sure he had heard him right. The gardener looked up at him and spoke louder, smiling in that rare way of his that was genuine – small, hardly a smile, but unlike his grin, the sentiment traveled up to his eyes, filling them with warmth. "I was in foster care," he repeated. "But not for very long. My foster father ended up adopting me, so then it technically became a permanent residence."

Kurogane stiffened, suddenly afraid he was going to find out something he wasn't ready to know from Fai's past, something dark and hidden and poisonous, but Fai was comfortable, his eyes cloudy, as if looking wistfully back upon the memory.

"His name was Ashura," Fai said. "He treated me like I was his own son, because to him I was. He was a wonderful man – rich, too! I was spoiled," he laughed, remembering things Kurogane couldn't see. "Spoiled, but appreciative. He had early onset dementia…it destroyed his mind." Fai's smile fell away. "Outwardly he looked like the same person, but inwardly…it was as if he was gone. He passed away years ago, leaving me everything – there you go, Kuro-rin, I answered another one of your questions. Now you know how I've managed to do pretty well for myself; I've been living off the last gift of a dead man."

He wasn't sure what to say to that; Kurogane reached out and silently let his hand fall on top of Fai's. Fai looked up, startled out of his memories, and smiled.

"So! Tell me about these boys. Do you have everything they need?"

Kurogane ticked off the list of items he bought, watching as Fai's face grew more and more rueful. Finally, the blond jumped up, dragging him with him.

"Come on, Kuro-daddy – we need to go shopping."

"Don't _ever _say that _again,_" he warned, but Fai was already hauling him out the door, thrilled with the new nickname.

* * *

Tsubasa was silent when Kurogane picked him up Tuesday evening; the boy refused to speak, only doing so when Kurogane knocked on Tomoyo's door and told him to apologize for breaking her lamp. He did so in a small voice, then followed Kurogane into his own apartment.

"This is where you and your brother are going to stay for awhile," he started, but Tsubasa interrupted him.

"Where is he? Where's Syaoran?"

Kurogane looked down at the little kid whose head made it up to his knee. "Still at the hospital. They tell you what happened?"

Syaoran stared up at him, terrified, and Kurogane acted on a new impulse: he crouched down and put one big hand on the kid's head, covering it completely. "He's okay. He lost his eye, but he'll have a glass one instead."

"Will he be able to see out of it?"

The look Syaoran gave him, imploring and desperate, made him want to say _yes _so badly that it cut him like a knife. He shook his head. "No, but no one will know it's fake…except when it's sunny, I guess. Because of the pupil."

"What's a pupil?"

Kurogane was glad the boy was talking to him after his silence. He told him what a pupil was as he dragged the couch out of the bed, throwing the new sheets and blankets on. Kurogane brought him into his room – the only room – and showed him the bottom two drawers of his dresser, which he had cleared out and filled with clothes (clothes that Fai had picked out, so they were _fashionable, _he thought with a shudder. Fai had insisted that the kids look good, "Or people will pick on them"). Tsubasa was shocked and didn't know what to make of this; he fell silent again as Kurogane showed him the bathroom (also in his room, so the kids would be running in an out, abolishing his privacy, a fact which he had come around to accepting as out of his control), where to find the towels, and lastly the kitchen, which had been filled with food, including snacks – chips, cookies, the kind of crap he'd never eat himself that, Fai said, "helps nourish the soul," whatever the hell that meant.

"You want something to drink?" Kurogane looked down, stopping mid-reach for a cup.

Tsubasa's fists were clenched; he was looking down at the tiled floor and biting his lip, his body shaking as he fought very hard against the tears that were pooling around the edges of his eyes.

"Hey." For the first time, Kurogane felt as underprepared as he actually was. "Your brother's going to be okay. He's coming home on Sunday."

He nearly fell backward with the shock of the little kid rushing forward, two arms wrapping around his leg in an embrace. Tsubasa buried his face against his pants, ashamed of his tears, and managed to get out "I-I'm sorry about t-throwing the lamp at you" before stepping away, rubbing his face with a balled, angry fist. He looked up at Kurogane, his face a mess of tears and snot and toughness and bravery, and Kurogane did the only thing he could think to do: he let one fist fall playfully down onto the top of Tsubasa's head.

"Forget about it," he said. "How about we go out to eat?"

* * *

It was in some ways a busy week and in some ways an agonizingly slow one; developments in the Reed case had stop entirely with no new leads coming in from any of the departments, which was frustrating on one hand because Kurogane wanted to see the man dragged through the streets of New York and yet undeniably convenient on the other, as his personal life had taken off in a span of about a day. He went from being a single, over-worked cop to having kids and a boyfriend. Well, shit: maybe that was how the universe just balanced itself out sometimes.

Seishiro continued to be almost frigidly polite about the whole investigation, but on Tuesday he came down to Kurogane's office, his manner changed entirely. A little more of himself was coming through his carefully crafted exterior, and when he smiled, he seemed genuinely amused.

"Yuuko tells me you're a dad-to-be."

"Yuuko said she _wasn't _going to tell anyone," came his acid reply.

"Kids are a hard secret to hide. If it makes you feel better, she only spoke to me. She tells me one of the boys you're fostering recently lost an eye."

Kurogane looked up at him, curious as to where this was going. Seishiro always gave him the goddamn creeps, but this felt different: maybe he was just masterful at manipulating people and didn't _want _to give Kurogane the goddamn creeps right at this moment, or maybe he was just a nice guy underneath it all.

Kurogane couldn't quite line up the phrase "nice guy" with Seishiro.

"She suggested I meet with him a bit to help him get used to it. It'll be hard at first."

"It's not like he'll be blind." A protective streak a mile wide flared up him; like _hell _he'd let Seishiro around Syaoran, but Seishiro only shrugged at him.

"No, he won't be blind, but his depth perception will be off, which will affect his balance, make him clumsy, get him into accidents. I owe Yuuko a favor and she requested I do this; you can bring him to work and sit in with us, if you don't trust me, Lieutenant Suwa." Seishiro smiled, amused at the thought.

If Yuuko trusted him enough to ask him to do this, Kurogane supposed he could, too – he didn't _want _to, but he _could_. He backed off a little bit and offered a gracious "We'll talk about it next week" as a good-bye.

He hadn't spoken to Seishiro since, as there was nothing to speak about. Reed's operation had always been particularly difficult to trace, as he favored stasis rather than movement; unlike most traffickers, whose strategy was to keep their stock jostled about from one place to the next, offering opportunities along the way to intercept the transport routes but, conversely, keeping the windows for intersection minimally small, Reed preferred to keep his victims in one quiet place, moving only twice: once on their way to the pick-up location, and once after being sold and picked up by the buyer. On Wednesday both squads did a full review of the previous years' worth of investigative material, retracing the pattern: Reed by-passed the seedy little backrooms and motels that low-time drug smugglers used in favor of high end resorts, the very best that New York City had to offer, hiding his captives in plain sight for the richest of clientele. He preferred quality over quantity, which was a double-edged sword: on one hand, Reed might only traffic a handful of people each year, making millions off a few poor souls. On the other, this exclusivity and selectivity meant that he could keep a very tight, personal control over his operation. The worst part about the whole thing for the team was knowing that Reed currently lived in Manhattan, as he had for all these years, hidden among them, laughing at them as he went about his trade in the dark, making a fortune on a business that might as well have not even existed. With that kind of money, anonymity, privacy, and disguises were as easily bought as anything else – especially human life.

"You can't follow a trail that doesn't exist," Kurogane had complained to Fai at the end of the week, who always listened patiently to his complaints as they drank. Kurogane was waiting for Syaoran to come home before introducing Fai to the kids; he didn't know how they'd react to "this is my boyfriend," but he figured it would go over better when they were together…so that he didn't have to do it twice.

"But you said the police have been working on this case for years. It's only been a week. Don't you think you're being a bit impatient…?" Fai stirred his whisky, sipping at it. They were back at Fuuma's, Karen's music sifting through the background of their conversation; Tomoyo had volunteered to take Tsubasa to the movies, giving them a night together.

"You have to keep a trail hot. We had it, and now it's cold. It could be years again before we even get anywhere with this, and meanwhile that fucker is probably in some penthouse suite laughing about what idiots we are as he reads the news."

Fai sighed. "Who knows?" He sneezed, rubbed his nose, and stood up. "Listen, I'm going to call it a night. You're picking up Syaoran tomorrow, aren't you?"

Kurogane nodded; the hospital was letting him out a day early.

Fai grinned. "Think I could stop by?"

"Come in the evening; we'll have dinner together."

"See you then!"

He kept his phone and pager on him at all times, hoping against hope that one of them would go off, calling him into work…but neither did. He kept reminding himself that Fai was right; his father had once gone six months without a single development; Kurogane remembered it well, because one week later, his father had died. Like Yuuko said, he needed to be patient. _Life marches on._

On Saturday when he walked to his squad car out the hospital doors for the third time, the second half of the twins walking behind him, Syaoran stopped and froze, wide-eyed.

"Am I being arrested?"

_Shit, they're kinda cute. _Kurogane forgot that the kid had passed out when they brought him to the hospital and hadn't seen the car. "I'm a police officer," he said. "Lieutenant, actually."

"Do you have a gun?"

"Uh huh."

"Did you ever shoot anyone?"

Why did kids always ask that question? "Yea," he said.

Syaoran gaped. "…Are you going to shoot me?"

"Why, you been bad?"

"N-no!"

"Then no. I'm going to take you home; your brother's waiting for you."

When they walked through the door, the twins held onto each other like two drowning swimmers desperate to save each other's life. When they finally let go, their hands remained clasped, fingers knitted together while they sat on the couch.

"Kids." Kurogane crouched down in front of them in the way he'd gotten used to doing with just Tsubasa; they were so much smaller than him, and he wanted to be able to look them in their eyes. "An important friend of mine is going to come over. We're all going to go out for a pizza."

Syaoran's eyes widened at the word 'pizza'; as Kurogane stood up and walked back to the kitchen, he heard Tsubasa whisper to him, "Mr. Kurogane is rich." Kurogane snorted into his water and pretended he hadn't heard them.

Fai arrived ten minutes later with a pleasant knock at the door. The boys looked up, curious, as a tall man in trim pants and a black blazer walked in, blonde hair sweeping in front of his eyes. Four little brown eyes, one fake, fixed on his ponytail and earrings in wonder, and he smiled at him.

"Hi there." Kurogane watched him, puzzled; he'd expected Fai's normal range of exuberance to come pouring out, but he was restrained and quiet, his smile small yet welcoming. He crouched down in front of them both, balancing neatly on his toes, and stuck out a hand toward Tsubasa.

"My name is Fai D. Fluorite," he said. Kurogane gave an audible _hmp _behind him; he'd never mentioned his middle name started with a 'D.' Or mentioned his middle name, for that matter. "And you are…?"

Tsubasa reached out with his free hand and shook Fai's. "Syaoran," he said. "But Mr. Kurogane said only one of us could be Syaoran, so I'm Tsubasa."

"Mr. Kurogane probably didn't want to get confused," Fai joked. "He's sort of a _slow _person, if you know what I mean." He winked at the boys, who each smiled, disarmed, in return. "So that means _you're _Syaoran?"

The smaller twin nodded. "I lost my eye," he said, pointing.

Fai gave a convincing expression of surprise. "Huh! Well, look at that! I couldn't even tell!"

As Fai stood up, Kurogane noticed the way Syaoran turned to his twin, beaming, and made a begrudging mental note of Fai's skills with children.

The kids were neither over talkative or ill-behaved; they sat quietly and had to be gently prodded to open up and talk a little, and thanked the server for refilling their drinks. Oruha had mentioned that this was a normal stage of mild shock, and too expect distrust and disbelief for the first few weeks. Kurogane had told Fai what Oruha had told him: the kids said their parents were dead and had died about two years ago; they had no living relatives as far as Oruha could research. They had each other, which was the best they could hope for under the circumstances, and so Fai asked questions centered on the here and now – _how did they like Mr. Kurogane? He's really mean, isn't he? _

When they came back to the apartment, the kids piled back onto the couch, watching as Fai lingered in the doorway, smiling apologetically at Kurogane.

"I'm still not feeling so great," Fai said. "I don't want to stay out too late, so I'd better go." Kurogane put a hand on his arm and leaned in. Fai scooted back, grinning. "The kids are watching," he whispered.

Kurogane decided he could deal with the aftermath. He shrugged and leaned in again, kissing Fai, and watched with a satisfied smirk as a slow blush crept into the gardener's cheeks. They said their goodbyes, and Kurogane turned back around to meet what he expected to be an onslaught of questions.

Syaoran started first. "Is Mr. Fai your boyfriend?"

"Just call him 'Fai.' And yea,'" he grunted.

"He's nice," Tsubasa said, and the twins promptly turned away back to each other, uninterested in an adult world.

* * *

Fai had bowed out of coming over on Monday; his cold was getting worse, he said, which was just as well; Kurogane was well rested when he got the page Tuesday morning. Kurogane and Souma's squads joined Seishiro, Subaru, and Yuuko in the debriefing room; the atmosphere was tense and strangely divided, unlike the first time they had met.

Yuuko wasn't smoking; Kurogane didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign. She sat in the front of the room, surveying them all coolly with her eyes, and when the silence had become all but unbearable, she spoke.

"We've had a development in the Reed case."

If Yuuko was making the announcement, then she had to have information from one of her informants; Kurogane and Souma's team had been hitting the streets to comb for information just to keep themselves busy, but even still, they weren't able to turn up anything useful – it was an exercise in futility, following up on leads they knew would go nowhere. Sometimes Kurogane felt like someone watching other people play a game of poker he'd mistakenly thought he'd been dealt into.

"Inspector Seishiro and I are of a different mind when it comes to this break," she said. Seishiro, sitting to her left, gave a pleasant shrug, as if to say _can't win them all, can you? _"Here's what we've got," she continued. "This morning I was contacted by one of my informants within Reed's circle; that person said that a new pick-up location had been established at one of the wharfs near the South Street Seaport close to the Brooklyn Bridge, and that a child is scheduled to be picked-up from that location tomorrow evening at 2 a.m."

Something in Kurogane's gut coiled, uneasy. "The wharfs aren't the sort of location Reed has been known to use," he said.

Yuuko's gaze swung upon. "Yes," she said. "That's correct. Moreover, this is very sudden – Reed has not been known to make many moves in such a short time period."

"What child?" Souma spread her palms flat on her knees. "I didn't hear –"

"We don't have an identity for this child," Seishiro answered. "There _are _children who have gone missing between the time of our raid on The Black Spider and yesterday, so this child could potentially be any one of those or one we're not aware of; Reed has been known to import certain types to meet his client's tastes, perhaps a little dark-haired, pale-skinned Russian, or –"

"Thank you, Inspector Seishiro." Yuuko's arms folded neatly in front of her bosom. "Unlike the Hyang case, we don't have a confirmation on the identity of the child and we have a location that doesn't match the sort of place he would normally use."

"You think this is a trap?" Kurogane tried to read the thoughts behind her eyes, but it was impossible – they were too deep, too well protected, but she looked deep into his own and answered truthfully.

"Yes."

"It might not be," Seishiro persisted. "If it isn't and we don't pursue this – well, we all know what will happen. As our first move was so…explosive, shall we say…there's no sense in backing off now." When Yuuko's expression didn't change, a sly, cold smile spread across his face. "I was under the impression you trusted these informants of yours, Yuuko. At least, I hope you do – I, for one, would hate to get killed by one."

Yuuko's voice was neither sharp nor swift, but measured and patient as she spoke, and her eyes found Kurogane's. "I trust them completely," she said. "But with the Hyang case, we had a positive for seeing Rondart, Reed's right-hand man, with Hyang, in addition to the information supplied by our informant. This is different, more vague. If you're asking if I think our informant is lying, then no, I do not. I think that person may believe that what he or she is passing on to us is the truth."

"You think your informant has been fed false information?" Kurogane stiffened. If so, that would mean Fei-Wang was making a move against them now: the man wasn't content to sit back and watch the other players at the table. He wanted dealt into the game, too.

"This is a possibility," came Yuuko's non-committal reply.

"Lieutenant Suwa, what do you think?" Seishiro's glass eye turned toward him, and Kurogane fought against the impulse to look away.

"Even if this is a set-up, it's still a break. I say we take it."

Seishiro smiled more widely; next to Kurogane, Souma nodded.

"Kurogane, Souma, Seishiro, Subaru – stay here." Yuuko stood up, her long hair falling down around her like black ribbons, and whatever she thought about his decision, she did not say. "We're going to formulate our plan of operation. The rest of you are dismissed; return here tomorrow morning for debriefing."

* * *

Kids were a bit like animals, Kurogane realized; when he got up early on Tuesday morning, they were already up, tense and anxious. Syaoran had stomach cramps and wouldn't eat breakfast, and Tsubasa sipped at his milk (Fai bought it – Kurogane could hardly stand the sight of it) with a brooding, moody expression.

"Are you going to be okay?" Syaoran blurted out the question, receiving a sharp look from his brother.

Kurogane frowned at them; he hadn't mentioned anything about what he'd be doing at work today, only that he had to work late and so their baby sitter would be staying with them through the night. Tomoyo had been more than good about helping to take care of the kids, but she had to work, too, and while he didn't want to do it, he'd tried calling Fai, who wasn't picking up his phone or answering texts. Tomoyo had been the one to call Kobato from Magnolia and ask if she could look after two little boys on her day off even though it was a school night for her. Kobato had been thrilled and said she could come even earlier and skip school ("I'm a senior," she said; "I promise we're not doing anything important!") and now Kurogane wished she'd come knocking at the door a few minutes early. The kids were picking up on his tension and excitement, and it was making them apprehensive.

"'Course I'll be okay," he said.

Syaoran wasn't convinced. "I could come with you," he said. "Are you a Sheriff? You could make me your deputy, and I could protect you."

Tsubasa jumped up. "I want to be a deputy, too!"

"No deputies. Sit down and finish your breakfast."

When Kobato arrived, she took one look at the boys' expressions and whispered to Kurogane, "Don't worry! I'll cheer them up. Have a good day at work!"

"I'll try," he muttered, and left the apartment, still feeling the twins' eyes on his back.

* * *

The wharfs just past Fletcher Street, close to the seaport, were surprisingly deserted; a few boats moved across the waters, out at sea, but the docks themselves were emptied of life. Tomorrow morning, before the sun was up, they'd be bursting with dockhands unloading bloated cargo ships, but for now, only a few men were around, locking up their sheds and storage facilities before heading home. New Yorkers were fast and efficient; if there were no ships harbored, there was no one there to work, but the moment a fishing boat moored or a tanker made dock, it would be swarmed with hard-working, thick-armed, fast-talking men, barking out orders as they worked to outrace the dawn and get their wares to market or buyers. It was too late to be night, but still too early to be morning, and in this dark, in-between world, the shipyard was eerily quiet for being on the edge of a city still glowing behind it.

They were all wired again, but this time, instead of two police vans, they were spread out in the marina in a number of vehicles, none marked, with back-up units stationed at every block. Yuuko had said that the particular storage shed facing the water on the lower end of the last dock, closest to the main seaport, the one that was brown with a gash carved out of the wood on the left door, with a blue, faded roof, was the pick-up location. Her informant had said that two men, age, height, appearance unknown, would approach it at 2 a.m. and enter. Kurogane's team had already surrounded the building; Kusanagi and Yuzuriha were already in the storage shed next to their target, the side door unlocked, ready for them to head out first. Kurogane and Souma were parallel parked along with three other vehicles next to the water, their windows tinted. They had a clear view of the shed, large enough to hold at least a couple hundred shipping crates, as they waited for one of their various units in the marina to signal them that the suspects had been spotted.

At 2 a.m., there was still no sign of them.

Kurogane could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickling up, adrenaline flowing through him like liquid knives. At 2:05 his stomach had grown tired of the smell of saltwater, and it knotted painfully inside him with anxiety.

"They're late," Souma whispered unnecessarily, but he understood what she meant. This was too different from the first operation; when they had arrested the men who had bought Hyang, they had been able to supply little to no information the NYPD didn't already known – Rondart was the middle-man, a go-between who reported directly to Reed, and they only knew one thing: they had been told to be on time. They had been in The Black Spider precisely when they were told to be there, but now it was 2:10, and the docks were deserted, no one was coming…

Seishiro's voice startled them both, crackling over the radio. "Your call, Lieutenant Suwa."

"My team will mobilize and enter the premise in one minute if there's no change. Souma's team will secure the area at that time, and you –"

Seishiro interrupted him. "I'm happy to stay right where I am, thank you."

A minute came and went.

They moved in unison: Kusanagi and Yuzuriha emerged from their storage shed, fired two shots at the padlock on the side door of the target unit, and entered through the left door just as Souma and Kurogane reached the front, did the same thing, and intersected with them in the shed's interior in a matter of seconds.

The smell hit them first; Kurogane didn't need their mounted flashlights to illuminate what he knew was a dead body, but the beams of light confirmed it, nonetheless. Someone found a switch, and the fluorescent lights inside the unit came on with an electric hum.

She wasn't a classically pretty woman, Kurogane could tell, but there was something exotic and strangely beautiful about the corpse, all the same. At first, he thought she had been propped to stand up, but no: her back was pressed against the far wall of the shed, impaled to the wall by a pipe that had been lodged through her rib cage, tearing through bone and flesh and organs and finally out through her spine, sunk deep into the wall behind her. At one point before her death she had reached up to touch the pipe, perhaps disbelieving what had happened to her, before her hand fell away, blood on the fingertips. Blood had bubbled and flecked on her lips as she gave a last gasp before dying, her dark eyes empty and cold, staring at them. She wore a black, traditional Chinese dress, now stained with the blood that had seeped downward, pooling around her ankles.

"It's fresh." Yuzuriha stood up, gun in one hand, Inuki's leash in the other. "Kurogane, whoever did this did it not long ago."

Souma looked up, alarmed. "We've been here for hours and didn't see anyone."

Yuzuriha loosed the dog; Inuki sniffed around the body, caught a scent, and took off running – toward the left side of the interior. The dog began growling at a large pile of crates, old shipping containers tossed haphazardly to the side, and Kurogane watched as Yuzuriha and Kusanagi pulled them off until a second side door was revealed.

"Who was watching this side of the building?" Kurogane felt his finger tighten on the trigger of his gun. Kusanagi and Yuzuriha had already stepped outside, loosing Inuki again to try and re-find the scent.

"I was." Seishiro's voice came over the two-way. "And I never saw someone exit."

"The door is open."

"I never saw someone exit," Seishiro repeated.

"You're a fucking liar," he snapped. Kurogane opened his mouth again to broadcast a string of furious curses for the whole department to hear when Yuuko's voice on his two-way stopped him.

"Describe the scene for those of us not with you, Kurogane."

He told them what he saw. No one said anything until Yuuko asked, "What does she look like?"

"Chinese, I'd guess – black hair, dark eyes, pale."

"Is her hair curly? Black?"

He froze, confused. "…Yes."

A long sigh came over the wire. "Secure the scene; we'll have to send CSI in. We have an officer down."

* * *

It was close to 11 p.m. when they were back in Manhattan, each of them looking worse than the other as Yuuko stood in front of them, her voice quiet.

"The person you found tonight was an undercover officer named Xing Huo, Reed's second-in-command."

Kurogane felt sick. He'd never met the woman, but among officers, the loss of a life was like losing a family member – one you had never met, one you had never known, but family all the same.

Yuuko continued. "She didn't originally work for us, but that was many, many years ago. She looks much younger than she is. She'd been feeding us information related to the Reed case, as you may have very well guessed."

"All this time, she's been working for him…for us?" Souma looked both amazed and dismayed.

"Was working," Yuuko corrected, and her voice was surprisingly kind. "Her work is over, now…and I can sense how frustrated all of you are. A lot of things happened this evening that I cannot share with you all – you know what you saw, and I ask that you trust me when I tell you that I know what happened…what happened beyond what you saw when all was said and done."

Kurogane's throat was burning. "That was a big 'fuck you' to us, wasn't it?"

"You can think of it that way." Yuuko slid up on top of the desk, sighing. "He killed her and left her body there as a way of saying, 'Look, I found your rat.'"

"How did he know?"

Yuuko stared very hard at Kurogane, reading his thoughts. His father had been betrayed; either Xing Huo had accidentally revealed herself or someone had outed her…

"I have an idea, which I won't be able to confirm for some time, although I will share it with you all. Firstly, and most importantly, this does not mean our investigation is over. We have an officer down, but we are not anywhere near beaten."

They looked up at her, not bothering to hide their bitterness; technically, the Reed investigation hadn't been over for years. That didn't mean it would _go _anywhere, especially with their undercover killed –

"We have two other undercovers on the case." Yuuko stared at them, letting it sink in; she had already shared the knowledge with Kurogane, but now she was offering it to them all, and Kurogane understood why: he could feel the suspicion among them, each of them wondering if someone among them had found out the identity of the undercover known as Xing Huo and arranged her death, had let some unknown killer slip through the side door of the shed, past the back-up units in the wharf...had turned traitor and entered into Reed's service. If Yuuko was giving all of them this information, he knew that was her way of keeping them together, of dispelling their suspicion from one another. "You may be unaware, but just by telling you how many undercovers we have left on the case – _two _– I have placed in all of you my greatest trust. I do not believe that any of the fourteen other people in this room have betrayed us."

Kurogane didn't like the qualifier of _in this room. _There were other people working on the case who weren't 'in this room,' specifically, two people whose faces and names he would never be allowed to know. "What's your theory, then?" Kurogane was having a hard time believing that anyone could put their trust in the man two seats away from him, a man with a glass eye who said no one had exited through the only exit in the building he himself had been assigned to watch.

Yuuko's voice rang out with certainty. "Fei-Wang set this up with the intention of killing Xing Huo; she was the one I spoke with yesterday, and she passed on the information to me without realizing that she was being set up for death. If Fei-Wang was wrong about her true identity, he would have killed her and moved on, but our finding her when we did proves she worked for us – we might have found her body later, when the dockhands came to work and police were called, but because we were there at that specific time, the time that he himself set up and most likely only told Huo, he knows he was right."

"And how do you think he knew?"

"It's possible one of the other two informants, or possibly both, released her identity as a way to build trust and protect their own lives after the raid two weeks ago. Reed would have wanted to know how the police knew about his actions, and he would have wanted blood. In an effort to spare their own, I wouldn't be surprised if they were willing to shed hers."

"What sort of sick people are you working with?" Kurogane stood up, his chair falling backwards; next to him, Souma jumped at the sound of his voice. He hadn't realized he had shouted.

Yuuko was unmoved. "Kurogane Suwa, when you go home tonight, you'll go home to a normal life – you'll take off your uniform and maybe have something to eat, food you bought with money stored in a bank account with your name on it, earned from the job that you work at. The men and women I have working for me don't have a uniform to take off: their lives, everything about them, is a lie they have constructed, _thanklessly, _to help us. Their lives are in danger every moment, and no one has parades in their honor – no one buys them a drink when they go out, or salutes them, because no one can know who they really are or what they really do for us, because if so, they would be killed. They are forced, every day, to do things they would never dream of doing in their nightmares because they know that someone must sacrifice for the greater good. If my theory is correct, I will not judge them – their job is to gain Fei-Wang's trust, and while I will mourn for Xing Huo, honor her service, and arrange her funeral – because she had no friends, no family – I will not hold her death against those officers. I believe they did what they had to do not only to protect their lives, but also for the good of this investigation, and I cannot imagine the courage it would have taken to make a decision like that, knowing they would have to live with the weight of that decision for the rest of their lives. Do you understand me?"

He understood, but could not accept, his fingertips brushing against his father's initials on his gun. Kurogane left the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

A half hour later he was pounding on the door to Fai's apartment, waiting for him to answer. He heard a shuffling, followed by the sound of the locks being undone, and a weary blonde head poked out of the door.

"Do you know what time it is…?"

"Not really." Kurogane stepped inside, hating everything in the world. "Let's go get a drink."

"No thanks." Kurogane turned to face him and protest, but stopped: Fai was standing there bare-chested in a pair of light sweatpants, his blonde hair loose and hanging down around him. His bangs were plastered to his face from sweat, and his eyes were glassy and bright; he squinted at Kurogane, as if the lights he had turned on were too bright.

"Christ, you really are sick."

"Did you think I was just avoiding you?" Fai stumbled over to his couch and sank into it, his frame wracked by a sudden series of coughs. His voice was hoarse. "I'm freezing, and then I'm burning up. Currently, I've got the best of both worlds – I'm burning up _and _I've got the chills."

"You take any medicine?"

"It didn't help…but, enough about _me._" He sneezed, looked disgustedly up at the ceiling, and coughed again. "What brings you out here?"

"…I had a really shitty day. I was hoping we could go out and drink until I forgot about it."

"As I recall, it would take _a lot _of drinking to make you forget about something, and anyways, the bars closed _hours _ago. You'd be smarter to go out and get breakfast at this point." He gave a weak laugh, saw Kurogane's expression was unchanged, and sighed. "That bad, huh?"

"Forget it," he muttered. "How'd you get sick?"

"Stress." Fai wrapped his arms around himself, shivering.

Kurogane walked over and stared down at him, unimpressed. "What do _you _have to be stressed about?"

"Peonies," he moaned. "I'm supplying the bouquets for a wedding this week, and I don't think they're going to open in time…"

"_Flowers?_"

"Wed-ding," he annunciated, glaring up at him. "They're sort of a big deal for people." He broke down into another fit of coughing. Kurogane walked over to where his bed was sunk into the floor, found a sweater on the ground, and tossed it to him. Fai moved to catch it, but was too sluggish: it landed on top of his head. He was cute even when he was sick.

"What's this for?"

"Come on. You've been developing this for days, so you clearly don't know how to take care of yourself. Put your sweater on – I'm taking you back to my place."

"The kids are there." Fai shook his head. "Where would I sleep?"

"You can sleep in my bed."

"Eh, Kuro-pu…you'll get sick."

He rolled his eyes and leaned down, pulling one thin arm up through the sweater, shoving Fai's head through the opening. "My constitution is a lot better than yours."

"Unless it's milk, right, Kuro-tan?" Fai still tried to hang back as Kurogane drew him to his feet. "I'll need to get home in the morning. You have to go to work, I might as well stay here –"

"I'm not going to work tomorrow." He said it more forcefully than he had intended; Fai's eyes widened. "So we can both stay home with the kids."

"And you'll nurse me back to health?" Blue eyes sparkled, some life gleaming through his sickness.

"_Shut up, _and _go,_" he growled, pulling him out the door.

* * *

Kobato was on the couch, one sleeping twin tucked under each arm when they walked through the door at quarter past four in the morning. She'd been baby-sitting for close to the entire day: Kurogane figured he owed her no small fortune, an apology to her parents, and a mountain of thanks, but she hugged the boys tightly to her, smiling as they entered. Kurogane had one arm around Fai's waist, supporting him; he had begun to wobble with his fever. The boys stirred and opened tired eyes, staring at the two of them.

"Kuro-daddy has a habit of bringing strays home," Fai explained, grinning at them.

"_Don't _call me that!"

"Hi, Fai," Tsubasa yawned.

"Hi, Fai." Syaoran suddenly pushed away from Kobato, climbing up the back of the couch. "Kurogane, do we have to go now?"

"Eh?"

"There's nowhere else for Fai to sleep." Syaoran looked on the verge of tears, confused and half-asleep, and Kurogane understood: he thought they were going to get kicked out on the street now, replaced by Fai. Kurogane let Fai go unceremoniously and stepped forward, the gardener stumbling behind him as he scooped Syaoran up under his arms, holding him at face level like one would lift up a puppy.

"Fai's going to stay in my room," he said. "This is your home, now. I can't kick you out of your home, can I?"

Kobato chimed in, a little tired but happy all the same. "No, that's illegal!" She stood up, yawned, and produced a little slip of paper, handing it to Kurogane as he set the kid down. She tugged her hat, gathering her belongings as he wrote out a check for her.

"They were a joy," she said, and he could tell she meant it by the warmth in her words. "I'll give Tomoyo my work schedule in case you need me do this again, but...maybe not on a school night, or at least, not for so long. I have to be at my home room in four hours," she laughed, then broke into another yawn. "But I'd love to, you know!"

"She's darling," Fai said after she left. He sneezed again, and Kurogane dragged him into his bedroom.

"_Don't _get the kids sick. Stay in here."

"You're the one who brought me here! I should have just stayed at home!"

Kurogane shut the door and began pulling out the couch, the boys watching as he tossed their pillows up onto it.

"Is Fai sick?"

"Uh huh."

"Did he have any chicken soup?" Tsubasa crawled under the sheets and pulled Syaoran up; the twins slept with their backs pressed against one another, or else arm-in-arm. "When we were little, our parents made us chicken soup when we were sick."

"You're still little," he said, tucking the sheets under them. "No, I don't think he had any."

"Can we make him some?" Syaoran turned his bleary eyes up at him, hopeful.

"Maybe. Go to sleep."

Kurogane didn't know if this was something real parents did, but after a week he had already developed an odd habit of hanging out in the kitchen after he tucked them in, listening for the sound of their breathing to even out with sleep. He did so now, a glass of water in each hand, and only when he was certain the boys were out did he go back into his bedroom.

Fai was hunched over on the bed, looking miserable. Kurogane sat down next to him and passed him a cup of water; he reached out and put one hand on Fai's shoulders, rubbing them, and felt like he'd accomplished something when Fai leaned into his touch.

"I really shouldn't be here." Fai's voice was thick with congestion. "I don't want to get the kids sick, and you don't need to take care of me."

"You look like a wreck."

"_Me? _You should see _you._" Fai's shoulders bunched up as he coughed suddenly. "It looked like you were out for blood when you showed up at my place."

Kurogane looked down at the floor. "Really?" Everything had gone wrong tonight; no wonder he had looked a little less than friendly when he barged into Fai's apartment, fuming.

"Uh-huh, Kuro-" Whatever pet name he had prepared was cut off by a particularly powerful sneeze. "You have no idea how scary you look sometimes, do you?"

That genuinely shocked him. "_Me_?"

"Mm." Fai took another gulp of water and nodded. "Can I say something? Promise not to laugh?"

"I'm not big on laughing."

Fai chuckled. "True. But promise me anyways you won't think this sounds stupid."

"I won't."

"You won't promise or you won't laugh?"

Kurogane sighed. "I won't laugh and I won't think you sound stupid. Just say it."

Fai looked at him, then away. "Sometimes you scare me."

Kurogane had nothing to say that; sometimes he scared himself. He took Fai's glass of water out of his hands, placed it on the nightstand, and gently pulled up at the hem of Fai's shirt. Fai's hands came up compliantly; Kurogane sat behind him on the bed and began to rub his bare neck and shoulders. Once, when he had had a fever, his muscles had ached from the cold and the coughing. The gardener shivered at his touch when Kurogane placed his hand flat against his back, measuring his span from the side of his body; he could almost get, from the tip of his thumb to his pinky, all the way across.

The tattoo wound around Fai like a lace shawl; Kurogane leaned in and kissed the back of his neck, feeling the heat of his fevered skin as he pulled his hair around to the side of his face. Shuddering and tense, Fai nevertheless allowed himself to be pushed down onto his stomach, his arms stretched above him, head on Kurogane's pillow.

"It smells like you," he mumbled.

Kurogane leaned down and spoke quietly into his ear. "What do I smell like?"

Fai struggled for a reply; Kurogane's lips had traveled to his earlobe, sucking on it as he once had before, while his fingers curled down into knuckles, kneading along the base of his spine. Fai managed a non-descriptive "good" and then asked, his voice pinched with nerves as he tried to sound light-hearted, "Will this help me with my cold?"

"Probably not." Kurogane got up on the bed and positioned himself above Fai; his weight sank into the mattress, and below him, the gardener suddenly froze. His head turned, one fearful blue eye looking up at him. Kurogane supported himself with one hand; with the other, he brushed the bangs away from Fai's face and leaned down, kissing the edge of his lips.

"I didn't drag you across the city to take advantage of you." He smirked. "Not with the kids in the next room."

"Mm." Fai stared back at him, not amused. "You look like someone eager for a distraction. Is that why you dragged me across the city?"

The thought hadn't occurred to him…not consciously, at least, but it was hard to deny it now that it had been spoken out loud. Kurogane looked down, pitying them both: someone was trying to love him, and all Fai's eyes could ask was _are you using me? _

"I dragged you here because I want to be with you."

Fai breathed out. "What's your plan, then?"

Kurogane kissed his eyelid close. "For someone who doesn't like questions, you're asking a lot of them. My plan is for you to relax and feel better." He moved just below the nape of Fai's neck, kissing the first line of his tattoo, then let his tongue slide along the pattern. Satisfied with the way Fai suddenly sucked in his breath and gripped the edge of his pillow, Kurogane began a slow descent with his tongue, swirling around the pattern across his arms, down his sides, along the knots of his spine and lower back, tasting the sweat and salt of him. Fai's skin was burning up, but the blond trembled with the sensation of sudden wet, soft coolness gliding along his skin, like ice slipping down his back.

The tattoo disappeared under Fai's pants. Kurogane stopped and sat up, pulling Fai over. He kissed his navel, his chest, his neck, finishing on his lips, but just as he made to slide his tongue inside, Fai turned his face away.

"You'll get sick if you kiss me too much." He gave a grin.

"I could go elsewhere." Kurogane reached down and hooked his thumb on the edge of Fai's pants; weak with illness, his hair lying in a mess about him, Kurogane felt himself horribly aroused by this feverish person whose body melted under his touch. "What do you think…?"

Fai bit his bottom lip, looked up at the ceiling, and braced himself. "….Kuro-pon, you drive a hard bargain." He exhaled suddenly, letting out a breath Kurogane hadn't know he was holding, and sounded half-sure, half-uncertain, but willing to try. "Okay." He sat up a little, his expression caught somewhere between his grin and a grimace. "This is a big step for us, huh?"

Kurogane had moved down the bed and was in the process of pulling Fai's pants down. He paused and looked up. "If you're going to talk the whole time, I'm not doing this."

"Oh, jeez, so demanding!" He coughed hard, shuddering. "Fine, I'll be quiet, but you don't have to be so –"

Whatever Fai was going to accuse him of being, Kurogane mercifully didn't find out. He moved up and took Fai in his mouth, his body thrumming with his own arousal as Fai cried out, his back arching as he clutched at the sheets.

He moved his head up, hissing. "Don't make noise! The kids!"

"The k-kids. R-right…" Fevered lips parted, gulping in air as Kurogane returned to him, licking up at his length and pausing at each delicate, hidden, sensual spot: the ridge just under the head, the base right near the shaft, the inner skin of his thighs, the tight, sensitive skin.

"K-Kuro-pon, you're good at this!"

Kurogane huffed and stopped for the second time. "Are you really going to talk the whole time?"

"No, just…ignore me…" Fai's head flopped back down; Kurogane reached under him, holding his thighs up and dragging Fai close. Fai let out a moan that set his blood on fire: low, rasping, uncontrollable. Kurogane's tongue flicked at the tight, white muscle at the base of his spine and then dragged itself, slow and unhurried, all the way up to the top of the head of his cock, his lips curling around to suck on it as Fai's moans grew louder, desperate –

A timid knock sounded at the door. Syaoran's voice carried through.

"Is Fai okay?"

A second, identical voice joined in, tired. "He sounds bad."

Kurogane's voice was hoarse. "He's sick! _Go back to bed, Syaoran!_"

Fai answered, his voice a shaking mess of nerves on the edge of an orgasm. "I-I'm fine, Tsubasa! T-take your brother back to bed!"

Kurogane glared at him through the darkness with a gaze that shouted _SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

Fai grinned back with fever-bright eyes and shrugged: _It's not my fault you can do magical things with your tongue, Kuro-rin!_

Kurogane rolled his eyes and sat up, pulling Fai up higher until his legs were hooked over his shoulders. Fai bit down on his lip, his nails sinking now into Kurogane's thighs, clutching at them in desperation as the officer's tongue moved in lazy circles around his entrance, up his thigh, then back down his shaft, as if he couldn't quite decide which part of his body was the best place to torture him. He settled on wrapping his lips tight against his arousal, moving it up and down with increasing urgency, and finally let go of his legs to grasp the base, sucking hard on just the tip. Fai came, his nails drawing blood as Kurogane swallowed.

He let the gardener's legs slip off him. Fai rolled over, his body shaking, and emptied his glass of water. When Kurogane lay down next to him, Fai turned and smiled.

"You can't sick from semen, can you?"

"You've got one hell of a sense of humor." Kurogane gripped him by his thighs and pulled him toward him, pressing his chest against his back. The truth was that he hadn't planned on seducing Fai or getting into his pants or doing anything at all, really, but with his defenses down a little bit from a cold, well…no one could blame him for trying. The prospect of sleeping next to him, of holding him close in his bed and listening to his labored breathing, absorbing some of the intense heat of his fever, made everything lighter. When he closed his eyes and breathed in his scent – flowers and Fai, sickness and all – he could momentarily forget the image of Xing Huo, dead, glassy eyes staring at him, blood on her lips and fingertips, sliding down her legs, and forget the way the scent of her corpse mingled with the heavy smell of saltwater. Wasn't this what Yuuko had been talking about? He could come home to this, to this twiggy guy who was falling asleep in his arms, his body wracked with spasms from his cold, and wake up and make him breakfast, spend a day with him, because he lived a relatively normal life.

He didn't want to think about all that, at least, not now. Kurogane closed his eyes and fell asleep, hoping the kids didn't wake up needing to use the bathroom; he, at least, had underwear on, but Fai was completely naked, and explaining _that _was above and beyond the duties of a foster parent, as far as he was concerned.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The eighth chapter might go up a little later in the day tomorrow because I can't edit it in public due to that M rating, and not for violence, either...hint hint. Hint. Mmrf. :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Author****'s Note: Thanks, Renly!** Good catch with Chise and Chiho - you're about to find out! CLAMP kids are the cutest kids, I swear. I'd like to work at a CLAMP nursery and cuddle them all :D **Thanks, Tsubasa-fan!** I can't wait to find out if you or Zelinxia are right. **Thanks, Irene Gerke!** I love Kuro-centric stories, and I'm glad you're enjoying it! **Thanks also to Reikah**; it's incredibly humbling that you would like something enough to share with someone else, so thank you! **Thanks, xwittychickx!** Can I tell you how amazing it is that you have a "family fluff" radar? I love it! And what's this about blood! EEK. **Thanks, Mindless Adri!** No, you read it correctly! Law enforcement would have to stay at the scene until CSI arrives, and also, they would be implicated as witnesses, have to provide statements, and then finally return to lower Manhattan for Yuuko to debrief them; then, Kurogane had to go to Tribeca, so after all that, it would be around 3:30 in the morning, so the timeline is correct. Yea, kids don't really care too much at that age - at least, not in my experience! Thank you all for reading and for your time - hope you enjoy!

* * *

Fai was worse in the morning.

The heat from his fever woke Kurogane just before dawn; the gardener was burning up, his face flushed. Kurogane gently lifted him up, holding him against him with one hand, amazed at how lightweight he was as he pulled the comforter back from the bed. He set Fai down and pulled just the sheets over him, hoping that this would keep him warm enough when the chills hit and cool enough when the sweating resumed. Below him, the pillow was soaked through.

Kurogane dressed quietly and went out into the living room; the boys were still asleep. Just past the entrance to the trains, a convenience market sat nestled around the block. Right around this time Kurogane would stop there to get some breakfast if he was feeling particularly hungry on his way to work. He snuck out the door, locked it behind him, and headed out into the streets, steam rising up from the gutters.

He bought everything he figured he would need to make chicken soup – chicken, for one, noodles, an onion, celery, carrots, peas – and some cold medicine, liquid and pills, along with crackers, orange juice, and a fresh loaf of bread. He was just heading out the door when he bumped against a familiar girl with long, brown hair and a habitually startled expression.

"K-Kurogane!" Miyuki looked up at him, surprised; she was wearing dark pants and an even blacker jacket, like someone aiming to blend in with the night. "Heading in to work?"

"No." He looked at her suspiciously; he'd been seeing her an awful lot lately, he realized – she always had a knack for popping up _everywhere, _but a block from his apartment in Astoria…? "Tell Yuuko I'm taking the day off."

"W-Will do!"

The twins woke up a half hour later to the smell of bacon cooking. They watched, curious, as Kurogane cracked the eggs right into the bacon grease and then used a slice of bread, folded in half, to mop up the liquefied fat and eat it right out of the hot pan.

Tsubasa's face screwed up in judgment. "Isn't that bad for you?"

"Most things that taste good are bad for you." Kurogane handed him the slice of bread, knowing that neither kid had yet to turn down any food they were served. Tsubasa ate it and nodded his approval to Syaoran.

"Kurogane, can I try, too?" Big, pleading brown eyes looked up at him.

_Fuck, they're cute. _He'd probably miss them when they finally were adopted out. Probably. Maybe. _Nah. _"Here." Syaoran watched hungrily as the bread soaked up the grease, growing thick and soppy with the flavorful liquid, and ate it with relish.

"Is Fai okay? He didn't sound good last night."

Kurogane was glad that he was too tall for them to see his expression properly. "Fai's very sick. He's going to stay with us today so he can get better."

"Can we wake him up?"

"No, I don't think –"

The twins ran for the door, yanked it open, and were upon him, waking Fai out his sleep. Kurogane was glad he had pulled the sheets up _over _Fai, hiding his nakedness. He leaned in the doorway, watching as four little hands tugged at Fai insistently, two identical voices demanding to know if he would be better enough later in the afternoon to maybe play with them for a little bit?

Fai's voice was clouded with sleep and sickness. "I don't know, we'll have to see what Kuro-daddy says." Even half delirious, he was determined to piss Kurogane off. Fai's fevered eyes suddenly widened. "Is that…bacon?"

"Uh huh."

"Where's your bathroom?"

Kurogane pointed to the door connected to his room and moved quick enough to grab the kids and send them out of the room. Fai stood up and stumbled, dizzy; Kurogane shut the door and guided him by his shoulders into the bathroom, where the blond promptly collapsed in front of the toilet and began vomiting. He mentally kicked himself for not remembering that some people had an unusually acute sense of smell when sick. At least the twins were happy; between the two seven-year-olds and himself, they had consumed a pound of bacon and eight eggs before a dressed Fai appeared in the bedroom doorway, pale and shaking.

"Good morning," he began, then swooned again.

"You. Back in bed." It was like guiding a lamb; Fai allowed himself to fall right back into the sheets; the twins watched from the doorway, whispering to themselves as Kurogane laid a cool, wet washcloth over his face. One hand slipped behind his head, supporting him, as the other held a spoon of medicine to his lips.

Fai's face screwed up. "It's gross."

Kurogane snarled. "I'll bet you haven't taken anything since you started coming down with this last week."

A guilty grin crept over Fai's lips. "If I said yes, what's my punishment?"

"Two servings every four hours." He shoved the spoon past protesting lips and watched as Fai nearly gagged on the stuff, then swallowed. His head fell back, and Kurogane retreated to the kitchen once more to get him water.

The twins had come to a conclusion regarding whatever it was they had been discussing. Kurogane felt a tug on his pants leg and looked down to see Syaoran looking up, curious, and prepared himself. _They'll want to know why Fai and I are in the same bed…what the hell am I supposed to say? _He tried to remember at what age his father had sat him down and explained that, when two people loved each other – and sometimes, even when they didn't – they got together, took off their clothes, and –

"Kurogane?"

"What."

"…How come you don't have a cool tattoo like Fai?"

He hoped he didn't sound too relieved as he faked sternness. "Because Fai's an idiot and I'll beat you both within an inch of your life if you ever get a tattoo."

Syaoran and Tsubasa retreated to the couch, displeased with this answer.

Kurogane pulled up a chair beside the bed; the twins came back later and crawled into the space he normally slept in, napping quietly next to the sleeping Fai. Outside, a thunderstorm was gathering, thick stormheads rolling over the city. Kurogane had a pair of reading glasses he kept inside his nightstand drawer; they had belonged to his father. He remembered seeing his dad slip them on and reread his favorite novels over and over again, novels that told of samurai and ninjas and breathtakingly beautiful mikos in a world and time far away. With one hand, Kurogane reached out and held Fai's clammy palm in his, feeling the weak pulse and the flush of his skin. With the other, he turned the pages of his newspaper slowly, reading through the news. Xing Huo's death had been announced, one tiny line in the obituary section, with a time and date for her memorial service: tomorrow, noon, to be held at the tiny church next to the Manhattan headquarters.

The kids woke up from their nap shortly after noon and headed to the kitchen with Kurogane to help make chicken soup. If Oruha had been there, she might have disproved of the way Kurogane handed each kid a knife to help chop up the vegetables, but even at seven, they were each decent little cooks: they ordered _him _around, and even stomped their feet in impatience when he admitted he had forgotten to buy broth.

"Now we have to boil the chicken in water with the carrots and stuff!" Syaoran pointed to the stove. "That means it won't be ready for an extra hour."

"Who taught you to cook?"

Tsubasa held up the chopping block with both hands; Kurogane had lifted him up to the counter. Diced carrots slid into the boiling water. "Our father. He was a great cook."

"He could cook anything," Syaoran confirmed, and the boys fell silent.

The soup was ready around two in the afternoon; they sipped it, pleased, and Syaoran tugged at his pants in a familiar way.

"You're a good cook too, Kurogane."

Tsubasa nodded. "And it's okay about the broth."

"Thanks," he grunted.

Fai was strong enough to sit up and hold down a bowl of soup, but he was particularly interested in the crackers. He had nibbled his way through half a box when Kurogane finally pulled them away and ordered him to eat something more substantial.

"But they're good for my soul," he began to protest. Kurogane cut him off.

"Focus on your body first!"

The stormheads had finally split open; outside, a thick, heavy rain beat down upon the city, made all the more brutal from the wind.

Fai was feeling better. He reached over, nudging Kurogane. "Gonna tell me what had you so upset yesterday?" Kurogane ran his thumb over Fai's hand as he stared down at the floor; Fai squeezed his back. "I'll listen, you know."

He spent the afternoon telling Fai about the case, details and all, not caring if he wasn't supposed to discuss active investigations. It felt good to have someone to talk to, someone to understand. Fai listened quietly as he came to the end, Kurogane's voice shaking with anger as he whispered, "I think I've done everything wrong."

"For what it's worth…" Fai squeezed his hand again. "I think you've done the right thing."

They stopped talking and watched the kids. For seven-year-olds cooped inside all day, the boys handled it remarkably well: they amused themselves by sitting on the ground and playing with a deck of cards Kurogane had given them. They didn't know any games, but they stacked them carefully, building houses.

Fai watched them on the bedroom floor. There was something sad in his eyes, as if he was remembering something that he had worked very hard to forget. He whispered to Kurogane, his throat raw from coughing.

"They need some toys."

"Oruha said their birthday is April first, next week," he mumbled back. "I was going to get them some."

"We should throw a party."

"Who would I invite?" He scoffed at the idea. "Me and you and Tomoyo?"

"We'll throw a party," Fai insisted. "We can have it at my place. I'll invite my cousin and the girls –"

"If she's your cousin, why do they call you uncle?"

"I told you, I was adopted. It's easier for them, and they don't know the difference. Like I was saying…" Kurogane waited as another fit of coughing gripped him. "I'll invite her and the girls, you can invite Tomoyo and that sitter from yesterday – what about anyone at work?"

He hadn't really told anyone about the kids; Yuuko, Souma, and Seishiro knew, but after his outburst yesterday… Kurogane looked down at the twins and tried to imagine what it would be like for them to walk into a birthday party filled with people after living two years on the streets of New York City, abandoned by the world. He could swallow his pride and invite his co-workers to a birthday party; it wasn't like they even had to come, and most likely wouldn't. "My Chief, Yuuko…and our Inspector, Seishiro. He's a prick, but he said he'd work with Syaoran – he's got a glass eye, too."

Fai nodded. "Anyone else?"

"If Seishiro comes, he'll bring Subaru…"

"Friend of his?"

"I don't know _what _the fuck their relationship is, and I don't want to know. Formally, he's the Deputy Inspector."

"_Don't _curse in front of the kids," Fai hissed. They were talking in low tones, trying to remain unheard. "That it?"

No, he said – he'd have to invite Souma, his partner of eight years now, who also knew about the twins, having written a letter attesting to his moral conduct and then enjoyed free lunch for a week, and if he invited Souma, Souma would want to bring her girlfriend Kendappa… The twins might get a kick out of meeting his squad mates, too: Ryū-ō, Kusanagi, Yuzuriha, Shogo – and if Yuzuriha brought Inuki, that might really set it over the top for them. He could hear himself now: _Look kids, a real life police dog! Don't pet it, it'll rip your throat out. _It was a joke, of course; Inuki wouldn't do anything he wasn't commanded to do, but then again…that odd protective streak flared up in him again, but this time it was stronger, bigger; his hand squeezed Fai's tighter.

"So let's see…" Fai counted in his head, ticking off the people. "We're up to sixteen, counting all of us."

"Oruha might want to come, too. And I forgot Miyuki." Funny how he'd done that, being as he'd just run into her not a few hours ago.

"Okay, eighteen. I can fit twenty or so comfortably, so this is fine. Write down everyone's names and where to send the invitations. I'll probably just send a stack en masse down to – where? The Manhattan building? Okay, also, jot down Tomoyo's number so I can get any extra info I need from her. I'll send out invitations ASAP and do all the decorations – oh, this is exciting! I love parties! What should I get the kids? How about –"

"_Relax._" Fai was working himself up; Kurogane pushed him back down into the bed, shaking his head. How he'd agree to go from buying the kids a few toys to a big fucking birthday party he wasn't sure, but by the way Fai's eyes were blazing with excitement, he knew there was no turning back.

It might have been Fai's call to arms to arrange a party that finally broke the fever later in the evening; after another helping of soup around seven o'clock, Fai's temperature began to come down. He remained in bed, his breathing evening out, as they sky grew darker, the storm not letting up. At nine o'clock Kurogane decided for him that he would be sleeping over again, and at nine thirty, just as he was pulling Fai close to him in bed, preparing (he hoped) to memorize the pattern of that ridiculous tattoo with his tongue, a familiar, timid knock came at the door.

"Kurogane?"

"What?" He hoped his voice didn't sound half as much like a bark as he thought it did.

The door opened a crack; Syaoran and Tsubasa's faces appeared. "Can we come in?"

He was about to shout no when Fai poked him in the ribs. "Uh huh. For a minute."

They rushed in just as a loud crack of lightening sounded; Kurogane _oofed _as they jumped up, grabbing at him. Fai grinned and mouthed at his horrified face _'they're seven! Get over it!' _

Kurogane sighed and rolled over, dumping the boys between them.

Fai leaned in, grinning, and propped his head up with one curled fist. "You scared of lightening?"

"No." Syaoran looked at him so defiantly that he was almost believable; another loud clap sounded, and both he and Tsubasa paled.

"Well, that's okay if you're not, 'cause I sure am!" Fai wiggled down under the sheets and stretched one arm over the two of them, resting it on Kurogane. "You both don't mind if I hold on to you, do you? Can you help me be brave?"

"…Yea." Tsubasa wiggled under the covers, pressing close to Fai.

"Uh huh!" Syaoran followed suit.

Fai grinned. "Kuro-daddy is scared of lightning, too! Aren't you?"

"_Don't _–"

A third crack of lightening sounded; the alarm clock on the bedside table flickered as the power went out and came back on. Two sets of terrified eyes looked up at him, the rest of their faces and bodies buried now beneath the covers. Kurogane sighed and leaned in, stretching his arms across them until the boys were secure under both of their arms.

"Yea," he muttered. "Terrified."

* * *

When he had went shopping with Fai for the kids' clothes, neither of them had thought to buy the boys suits; neither had thought they'd be attending a funeral any time soon.

"Where are we going?"

Fai tugged the black shirt down over Syaoran's head. "Kuro-papa is going to drop me off at my place, and then the three of you are going to go to a church."

"Why?"

"We're paying our respects," Kurogane answered.

"Did a friend die?" Tsubasa looked up, alarmed. Kurogane shook his head.

"No. No one I knew."

The boys climbed in the back of the police car, separated from them by the mesh window. Fai joked that they were under arrest for real this time – everything up to now had been an elaborate trap – and the boys laughed and tried to grab at his fingers as he poked them through the wires. When he pulled up in front of Fai's brownstone, he said his goodbyes to the boys and leaned over, kissing Kurogane.

He winked. "I'll start taking care of what we were talking about!"

"Don't go overboard," he warned.

"Overboard is what I do best!" The door slammed, and Fai disappeared into the building.

* * *

There was no service, not really – just a small urn at the end of the pews, a bouquet of flowers next to it, and a small placard that read "In Memory of Xing Huo." It didn't have her year of birth or death next to it or even a picture, let alone her last name. As he walked down the aisles, one twin holding on to a pinky finger on each hand, he passed a few people in the pews – tourists, the homeless, the believers, the sunlight throwing colors down upon them through the stained glass.

Yuuko stood in front of the urn; she was dressed in a floor length black gown, hugging all of her curves and making her look distinctly out of place in a church. A small hat was pinned in her hair, and from it, a curtain of black lace had been pulled over her face. Another person might have made it look costumey; Yuuko looked up as Kurogane approached, her expression serious, and looked inhumanly beautiful.

He didn't know how she was going to react, but a slow smile spread across her face. She crouched down to her knees when they came to a stop near her, holding out her hand.

"It's nice to see you both again." The twins nodded and shook her hand.

She stood up. Kurogane started to speak, "I'm sorry about yesterday," but her gaze stopped him.

"It's alright." She smiled down at the boys. "I understand. It speaks to your character that you came here." Her gaze returned to the urn, her eyes piercing through to the fine dust within that was all that remained of what had once been flesh and bone. "I remember it took you a long time to trust me when you joined the force. You were always second guessing your superior's orders, and when you rose high enough to start taking orders from me, it was like dealing with a bull intent on getting its horn stuck in a fence."

"I had some growing up to do." He admitted it because it was the truth; it was foolish to deny the past.

"But you leveled out rather quick, and what I liked about you, Kurogane, was that you rarely learned from your mistakes…because you rarely made them. You had excellent instincts, and I can only think of one or two times, really, that something small – not even memorable – slipped past you. Your growth came from those around you; while you persevered, others failed, and I watched you learn from them. I imagine you were the sort of boy whose mother could say, 'See how that little boy got burned playing with fire? Don't touch it – it's hot' and you, in turn, would believe her and never touch it. You were smart and you have always supported and protected your fellow officers. I know that you are still hurting, from what happened with your father…" Kurogane stiffened; he knew it was true, and equally undeniable. "And I know that this case has opened up that wound and made it fresh again. I know you think of what happened to him not as an inevitability, but as a mistake, something that could have been prevented. Your instincts are telling you to learn from that lesson, and yet, I know that you trust me – mostly, I think, because other people who _you _trust, trust me, but you do trust me, nonetheless. It has been a hard-earned trust, to be sure, but I thank you for it. I wasn't in charge when your father was heading the investigation, so it isn't quite the same parallel, but I understand why you walked out yesterday, just as I understand why you are here today."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Do you trust me?"

Yuuko smirked. "I wouldn't have agreed to help place two little kids in your home if I didn't think you were a trustworthy person."

"Then answer me, truthfully…" Kurogane lowered his voice, looking as deep into her eyes as he could bring himself to do and, even then, failing to see her secrets within. "Did you set Miyuki to tail me?"

Yuuko would have made one hell of a poker player; no surprise flitted across her face, no tell revealed her thoughts. She simply looked at him, level, and answered, "No."

Kurogane knew she wouldn't lie, but he persisted. "You told me there's no such thing as coincidence –"

"Yes, we've talked about this before."

" –and I keep seeing her everywhere."

Yuuko shrugged. "Miyuki lives a life, just like the rest of us." When Kurogane answered with a pointed glare, she sighed. "Have you ever considered Miyuki isn't tailing _you?_" He didn't know what to say to that, and didn't get a chance to. Yuuko finished and produced her cigarette and holder from her purse "Join me outside while I smoke?"

He scowled in disapproval. "I don't want to encourage that in front of the kids."

Yuuko laughed, a sound too full of mirth to be in a church. "You're really getting the hang of this, aren't you? Fine, have it your way – I'll meet you at the office later."

"I'm heading there now."

"With the kids?"

"Just this one." He raised his hand; Syaoran let out a peel of laughter as he was hoisted up off the ground. Tsubasa started tugging at his sleeve insistently, and Kurogane walked back out of the church, alternately curling a seven-year-old up in each arm and not giving a damn at the offended expressions he was on the receiving end of as he did so.

* * *

When Kurogane walked into Seishiro's office, the Inspector looked up coolly.

"If you've come to accuse me of –" He stopped, blinking; Kurogane had lifted up off the floor, by a single arm, a seven-year-old for him to see. "Oh. You might want to put him down, that's not good for them…"

Kurogane set the kid on the floor, watching warily as Seishiro got up and walked around the desk. Syaoran eyed him with equal suspicion as the man held out his hand, smiling.

"I'm Chief of the Detective Bureau, Inspector Seishiro Sakurazuka," he said pleasantly enough. "But you can call me Seishiro. What's your name?"

Syaoran reached out and shook his hand tentatively. "Syaoran."

"Syaoran….I've heard that you and I have something in common." He tapped his temple next to his glass eye. "Maybe Lieutenant Suwa…or….what do you call him?"

Syaoran was shy, but helpful. "Fai calls him Kuro-daddy. We just call him Kurogane."

Seishiro stood up slowly, his face carefully controlled, but Kurogane could see the man working to contain a laughter that threatened to choke him to death from the inside. After an extended moment of uncomfortable, charged silence, Seishiro spoke again, his voice pinched with the effort not to laugh. "This friend of yours, Fai, has quite a way with words."

Kurogane imagined pepper spraying Seishiro's face; that would get rid of that smirk.

"So, Kurogane, would it be alright with you if I take Syaoran for lunch?"

He really, really hated the man…but he nodded stiffly, watching Syaoran's expression light up.

"Be back here by one," he called.

As they left, Kurogane heard Seishiro lean down, a particularly malicious grin on his face, and ask, in an angelic voice dripping with innocence, "So, what else does this Fai person call Kurogane…?"

* * *

Having brought Syaoran to work the day before, Kurogane had weathered the first bands in the storm of surprise that greeted him from his co-workers upon learning that he had become a foster parent. It struck full force on Thursday when people walked into his office, holding up small blue envelopes with an address, date, time, and instructions to RSVP for the twins' birthday party on Sunday. Yuuko was particularly enthusiastic.

"Can I bring a guest?"

"I don't care."

"What about three guests?"

"I don't care," he repeated.

"You _do _realize that Saturday night is our monthly drinking challenge, don't you?"

Now _that_ he didcare about. By Sunday night his co-workers would be sufficiently mellowed out from drinking the night before to be tolerable at the party. He didn't expect any of them to want to come, but by mid-afternoon, everyone had dropped by to congratulate him and let him know they'd be there.

"I would have never thought _you, _of all people…" Kusanagi cocked his head to the side, smirking. "What should I get the boys?"

"Whatever you want," came his curt reply.

The rest of the week was slow, with no developments in the case and a surprisingly low amount of other issues to deal with. It was as if New York City itself had decided to cut him a break, for which he was grateful. Kobato had agreed to come over on Saturday to babysit the kids; "Don't mention anything about the party," he warned. "Fai wants it to be a surprise."

Watanuki was displeased to see their regular group walk through the front doors of The Pipe Fox promptly at 10 p.m. He was especially vitriolic to Kurogane.

"You've got some nerve keeping me up all night to support your habits when I've got _your _kids' birthday party to cater tomorrow!"

"He got a _cater?_" He was about to pull out his cell phone and call the whole thing off (it was getting ridiculously big and expensive) when Yuuko pulled him into their private room and shoved a bottle of sake into his hands.

It was close to dawn when Watanuki's pleas for them to leave were met with success. By the time the taxi brought him home, it was six o'clock in the morning, and the boys were wide awake from a night of rest and ready to play. The outright heartbreak on their face when he said "I'm going to sleep. Be quiet out here" almost kept him up, but he reminded himself that they had a birthday party in the evening – they could survive for now.

"See you later!" Kobato called.

"Right," he groaned, and began cracking raw eggs into a glass to help the slight pressure headache behind his eyes.

He was up again at noon to make lunch for the twins, then spent the rest of the afternoon playing "I don't want to take a shower," a game in which the twins raced around the living room, all of their pent-up energy coming to a head, when Kurogane commanded them to take a shower.

It was not Kurogane's favorite game.

He finally managed to catch one of them by the collar of his shirt and tuck him under one arm, pinning him like a package. He stormed into his room and dropped him off in the bathroom, struggling to get the kid's shirt off without strangling him as Syaoran (he could see it was Syaoran now, still a hair thinner than his brother, but swiftly catching up) erupted in laughter. Tsubasa reacted by tearing his own clothes off and leaping, naked, onto Kurogane's back, demanding a ride.

Kurogane had finally reared up and roared at the two of them to get their clothes off and "_GET IN THE SHOWER!"_

Two identical expressions of terror stared at him, and then both twins scrambled forward, pulled back the curtain, and got into the shower. Kurogane turned the water on and sat down on the toilet, leaning forward and scrubbing their hair. He already felt terrible for yelling; two sets of eyes stared down guiltily at the shower drain.

"We were just trying to have fun…"

"…You were sleeping all morning…"

Syaoran looked up shyly, blinking rapidly as shampoo slid down through his lashes. "It's our birthday."

Kurogane pulled the shower head down and rinsed out their hair. "Oh, is it?" He tried to sound surprised. "How about we go out for your birthday, then?"

Tsubasa eyed him in disbelief. "Really?"

Kurogane shrugged. "Unless you don't want to." The twins walked out onto the shower mat; he wrapped an oversized towel around them both tightly, using a smaller one to dry their hair. They weren't saying anything; their eyes looked dejectedly down at the floor, silent in a world of their own memories. _Shock, _he reminded himself, remembering Oruha's words.

He poked them. "Guess what you are?"

"What?"

Kurogane sealed them both in the towel together. "A two-headed burrito."

They giggled. All was forgiven.

* * *

He had to go to lower Manhattan for the rest of the afternoon; _someone _had to go back to the office, and Yuuko had texted to let him know it sure as hell wasn't going to be her. Tomoyo watched them until he got back, then left to head out early to the party. In the mean time, Kurogane promised to drive the boys around New York City in his squad car ("I'll turn the lights on if you're good") with the promise of eventually arriving at a pizza parlor to celebrate their birthday. Fai had said the idea was to pick them up after work to give everyone else time to get there early so that, by the time they walked through the door, the guests could all yell surprise. Or whatever.

The twins looked disappointed; the steps they were walking up didn't look like a pizza parlor. Pizza parlors did _not _have elevators, Kurogane heard Syaoran whisper conspiratorially to his brother. Tsubasa nodded in agreement.

"Right here." They stopped in front of Fai's door. Kurogane knocked, heard the pleasant buzz inside die down, and then an unmistakable, lilting voice called "_Come in!"_

Kurogane opened the door, and inside, twenty three people shouted "_Surprise!"_

The twins paled, eyes widening in alarm, and ran behind his legs, burying their faces in the back of his knees.

"Oh, dear." Fai rushed forward, grinning. "Not quite the reaction we were hoping for, is it?"

"They're just overwhelmed." Kurogane walked in, the boys following behind him like timid ducklings, but as smiles greeted them – smiles, and a stack of presents in the middle of the room – their courage plucked up. They looked up at Kurogane for reassurance, and he gave his co-workers the shock of their lives as he smiled, unrestrained, down at them.

"It's your birthday party," he said. "Go have fun."

The twins rushed forward. Chise and Chiho, in matching pink dresses with white ribbons in their hair, were near the couch, playing with their familiar stuffed animals, a little girl Kurogane had never seen before between them. She had bright green eyes and short, auburn hair that framed her face, but two bits stuck up stubbornly in the front. Tsubasa looked up at her and had eyes for nothing else; Syaoran was less interested, amazed to discover twins like he and his brother.

It was a lot to take in all at once: Fai had outdone himself. Where his bed was sunk into the floor, wood paneling had slid out over it, extending the floor space of the flat. A table had been set up there, and on it was an array of foods that Kusanagi, Ryū-ō, and Yuzuriha had descended upon (with a relief, Kurogane noticed she hadn't brought the dog). All three of them were in uniform like himself, making him feel less self conscious. Doumeki, dressed in The Pipe Fox uniform, demurely brought food back and forth from the kitchen to the table on Watanuki's orders, who acted like a mini-general from behind the bar, waging his war on a pot of steaming dumplings. The stove was going, and he was cooking something that smelled, quite simply, _decadent. _Kobato had moved over with the children; Chise and Chiho had discovered that she had two layers of hair – one, short, ending at her shoulders, and the second long, down her back, that could be braided. This fact delighted the three girls, who worked the left, right, and center to braid her hair while Syaoran and Tsubasa watched on, amazed.

Seishiro and Subaru were talking quietly to Souma and Kendappa, the four of them looking like some sort of cut out from a magazine: Kendappa was dressed in the height of fashion in a trim business suit, and Souma, Kurogane was horrified to discover, was wearing a pencil skirt that revealed what turned out to be a stunning set of legs. In a light sweater, Subaru looked five years younger, making Seishiro, in his all-black shirt and pants, look all the more like a pedophile…or not. Kurogane had begun to develop a grudging respect for the man after Syaoran had talked for an hour about how nice he was and how Seishiro wanted to have lunch with him again next week. He'd have to do his best to reel in the pedophile jokes, even if something _weird _was up with those two.

Tomoyo touched his elbow. Kurogane turned around to see her beaming face.

"Hasn't Fai done a nice job?" She said, gesturing at the decorations. "And look – Kobato did the cupcake arrangement."

Fai's floral sensibilities had kicked in; Kurogane had been under the impression that flowers were for weddings, but the arrangements that were clustered throughout the flat were restrained, bright, young – the sort of things young boys clustered around, poking at, like Syaoran and Tsubasa were doing now, having dragged the little girl he didn't recognize away from Kobato to look at a particularly vivid bunch of tiger lilies. They began to play what appeared to be some sort of variant of "jungle." In the middle of the room, where the coffee table was between the couches, three layers of trays had been stacked up, each piled high with cupcakes, next to the stack of presents. He'd really have to remember to get her a thank you card, or something. For all the teenager did for him, he ought to be giving her health benefits.

"She's great with children," a feminine, soft voice spoke.

Kurogane turned to meet a woman he didn't recognize; she wore a long, cotton dress down to her ankles, and her hair – black and straight – fell neatly over her shoulders. "I'm Chitose," she introduced. "I'm Fai's cousin through adoption; the girls call him their uncle...but he's more like a father to them." Her voice fell away suddenly, even softer than before, as her eyes on the floor. "It's nice to meet you."

"They look a lot like him," he offered, shaking her hand. Chitose smiled.

"Funny how things work out like that sometimes, isn't it?" Chitose pointed at Fai; he was moving from person to person, talking with them easily and offering them more food or drink, introducing himself more thoroughly. "He loves this sort of thing. You're dating, aren't you?"

"…Yea." He wasn't sure how Fai had greeted the guests as they arrived; he didn't care if they knew they were together, but he hoped a few choice people hadn't found out. It didn't matter if he dated a man, a woman, or a dog, for that matter: police officers could find anything to give each other a hard time about. Souma would rib him constantly, not to mention what sly remarks Seishiro could come up with….Chitose smiled, sensing his thoughts.

"He didn't say anything, if you were wondering. I can tell, though – when you were in the doorway, his smile could have lit up the room. I've only seen him like that with the girls, before. You must be a special person," she said, and her smile was sincere.

"Kurogane – or shall, I say, Lieutenant Suwa." Yuuko's voice sounded to his left. "If you don't mind my interrupting, I have someone I want you to meet."

He turned to find Yuuko dressed in a flowing violet day dress patterned with water lilies, her eyes gleaming. A man stood next to her, taller than her but with very much the same air about him, his long, black hair pulled back in a pony tail. He was dressed simply, and yet his clothes gave off a sense of luxury: he wore a long, cashmere sweater over his shoulders, and he smiled delightedly, as if they were old friends despite having never met before; he looked vaguely familiarly, but Kurogane couldn't quite place him. A pair of glasses balanced neatly on the bridge of his nose as he leaned forward, shaking Kurogane's hand.

"This is Police Commissioner Clow Reed," Yuuko said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kurogane," Clow said, nodding.

Kurogane hoped he didn't look too surprised. The _Police Commissioner _was at his kids' birthday party. Shit. Wait, _his _kids? _They're not mine, _he thought quickly. _I'm just holding them till someone better comes along._

"I hope you don't mind my being here," Clow said. "I know how hard you and your co-workers have been working on the Fei-Wang Reed case, and I've been meaning now for some time to let you know how much I appreciate all you've done, particularly with some of the criticisms you faced personally from the media. Also," he said, chuckling quietly, "My little girl loves birthday parties." He pointed to the girl that Tsubasa had decided to hold hands with, his face a burning red. "Her name is Sakura. And that…" He frowned as an older boy in his late teens came storming up, scooping Sakura up from under her arms and setting her firmly down on his shoulders, glaring down at Syaoran, "Is her older brother, Touya. He's a bit protective…oh. Well, look at that. Tsubasa's got some fire in him, I see."

Kurogane rushed forward; Tsubasa had glared up at Touya and then pulled his leg back, kicking the older boy as hard as he could in the shins. Touya gave a yelp, steadied Sakura by grabbing her knees, and then made to kick the boy back, a bad move: Syaoran had spotted the attacker's intentions against his twin and quickly made to kick Touya from behind. Kurogane got there just in time to grab one twin each, yanking them apart.

Fai walked over, laughing. "How about we let these kids open up some presents so they have some toys to occupy themselves with, eh…_Kuro-daddy?_" He whispered, winking at him.

The group gathered around the couches as the boys sat down and were given their gifts. Each person came forward and introduced themselves as a friend or as a co-worker of their new foster dad and wished them a happy eighth birthday. Tsubasa insisted on showing every gift he opened to Sakura, who clapped for him, and Kurogane felt a stirring of pride in them as they treated each gift with respect, placing them down gently only after crunching up the wrapping paper and handing it to Fai, who shoved it into a trash bag. Even Watanuki had gotten the twins, whom he had never met, something (probably on Yuuko's orders): a large magnet writing tablet for the fridge, with two dry erase markers. On the top of the tablet he had written "Things I Would Please Like To Eat This Week" and drawn two columns, one labeled "Syaoran" and one labeled "Tsubasa."

"They're probably not so great with writing," Watanuki acknowledged, "Since they're young, but they can still draw."

Kobato had hand-stitched two stuffed animals that looked to be of professional quality; Tsubasa was given one that looked like a blue, stuffed dog with sharp teeth, and Syaoran received one that looked a bit like a rabbit with long limbs and claws, wearing an eye patch, one-eyed like him. Kurogane thought stuffed animals weren't appropriate for little boys, but he changed his mind when he saw their eyes light up as they hugged them tightly and did not, like the other toys, place them neatly in the pile, preferring to hold onto them.

The five toddlers occupied themselves quietly with the toys while the adults drank and ate and mingled, Touya and Kobato hanging back to watch over the kids, though for different reasons. It was close to 9 p.m. when Yuzuriha politely excused herself in order to get home to walk and feed Inuki; Kusanagi left with her, but not before tossing both of the twins into the air and congratulating them for turning eight. Tsubasa was heartbroken when Clow called Sakura to him, his expression changing to hatred when Touya leaned down and held her hand, walking her out the door. Clow laughed, told Kurogane to arrange a play-date, and wished him well.

Watanuki was packing up his knives, yammering at Doumeki to make sure they had everything. Kurogane was going to help when Tomoyo pulled him aside.

"I'll take the boys home with me," she said. "Why don't you stay and help Fai clean up?"

He nodded. The twins hugged him tight around his legs…and didn't let go.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised, and only then did they release him, their stuffed animals clutched in each hand. "Get to bed early." The last thing he did was carry the toys downstairs and pile them in the back of his patrol car.

When the door shut for the last guest, Kurogane turned around and let out a low sigh. Fai was leaning against the couch, long legs stretched out before him looking, decidedly pleased with himself as Kurogane approached.

"You didn't have to do all that."

Fai grinned. "You saw how happy they were. All I did was the right thing."

"It was too much."

Fai moved forward and slipped his hands around Kurogane's waist, pressing against him. He leaned up on his toes and kissed his lips very slowly, tracing his tongue across them in a sensual, lazy gesture, and leaned back down. "It was perfect," he said.

Kurogane looked at the mess in the apartment and tugged at Fai's pony tail, loosening his hair.

"How about we clean up tomorrow?"

"Mm…" He stepped back, his legs moving with grace and fluidity. "Now _that _sounds like a plan. Close the curtains – I'll get the bed out."

Fai used a metal rod to grab a hook in the floor, sliding out the paneling to reveal the inset bed. The pillows were below, all laid flat. He turned around to make a joke and found himself falling down onto the mattress, Kurogane on top of him, biting playfully at his ear.

"I always wanted to do that!" Fai laughed, shoving him away. He tossed his shoes up onto the floor, his voice suddenly heavier. "I never had anyone to do it with, though…"

"Want to do it again?"

"I want to do something else." Fai pushed him down onto his back, his lips crushing into his with a fiery insistence. Thin hands tore at his clothes, his fingers slipping the buttons threw each eyelet with efficiency until he could successfully pull off Kurogane's shirt.

"There you are." He breathed out slowly, staring down at his body. "I wanted to see what you looked like in the light."

Fai was a tactile person; perhaps it came from working with plants. Kurogane threw his head back and sighed as the gardener traced his fingertips across him, as if plotting a map he intended to learn by heart, interested in every contour, every groove. A cool tongue slid across his left nipple, tracing the muscular definition of his body, down the cleft in his chest, back up on the right, dragging around that other darkened circle of flesh and nipping at it just hard enough to make it stiff.

Kurogane reached up and grabbed the bottom edges of Fai's sweater; the blond allowed the garment to slip off him, his own hands fumbling with Kurogane's pants. He worked quickly, like a man racing against his own better judgment eager to be done with something before he changed his mind.

"Where'd your belt go?" He breathed, unzipping his pants.

"Over there." He'd had the presence of mind not to tackle his boyfriend while wearing a loaded gun at his waist.

"Mm." Fai rocked back and grabbed at his pant legs, stripping them off. "You know, you look good in uniform…but even better _out _of it."

That was another joke he'd heard Yuuko make before. "You. Stop talking." Kurogane reached up and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling him back down until their bodies were a tangled mess of limbs. Somehow Fai managed to kick his own pants off and then, without realizing it, they were naked, pressed against each other, each burning with need. Kurogane reached down and touched Fai's arousal, gently, hesitatingly; the blond jerked, hazy eyes widening as if he was suddenly too aware of what was happening, and fear crept into his eyes. Kurogane watched Fai's internal battle play out in his gaze and kissed him as slowly as his straining body would allow, tilting his chin back to deepen it until Fai lost himself, pressing into him. Their hips came together; Kurogane reached down again, his hands sliding down hips that would haunt his dreams and grasped his rear, drawing him still closer yet until their arousals touched. His fingers curled around them both, gripping them together; Fai gave a sharp, ragged gasp near his ear, shuddering in his grasp as Kurogane stroked them, and then wrenched himself away, struggling to catch his breath.

He was retreated mentally into himself, shaking, as something hidden scratched and clawed at his soul. Fai sucked in an unsteady breath and turned back to him, determined to see this through, and lay back down next to him.

"You okay?"

"Always." Kurogane knew a lie when he heard one. "Go slower…"

A painstakingly unhurried exploration of each other's bodies began, made possible with the tools of tongues and hands. Kurogane discovered that Fai was capable of a soft mewling sound if he sucked on his earrings while sliding his fingers along his inner thigh, ghosting them upward over that soft, sensitive spot of tissue, then lingering them on his lower back. Fai discovered that if he kissed right between Kurogane's shoulder blades while bringing both hands down his legs, fingers curling in his hair, fingertips just brushing against the base of his cock, the police officer would shudder in the most potent form of agony known to man: pleasure.

A half hour passed until their tongues found one another again, mouths returning to the starting line, their bodies pressed close together in an embrace, and once more Kurogane pressed his arousal against him, kissing him with a sudden, more insistent need. Fai shuddered again, and each kiss felt more like a battle in a war the man was losing, a battle he was forcing himself to fight while already beaten.

Kurogane sighed, pulling back, his mind dizzy with lust. "We don't have to have sex," he began, but stopped: Fai's expression was pained.

"I want to."

Kurogane was pretty sure that the complete sentence ended with _get it over with, _but instead he reached forward, gently tucking Fai's hair behind his ears.

"Do you really?"

Blue eyes fell away. "I want to, but…" He cringed suddenly, unable to bring himself to admit to whatever he was avoiding inside himself. Of what, Kurogane didn't know, but he could see for certain in Fai's eyes that he was afraid. Maybe it was the unknown, or the past, or the future, but that indescribable thing slid up around Fai and held him paralyzed.

"I understand –"

"You don't." Fai's voice was suddenly sharp. "Don't say you do, when you don't." He moved to pull away; Kurogane reached out and gripped his wrist, tugging him back down.

"Help me understand, then."

There was a sudden bitterness, almost hatred in Fai's eyes. He yanked his hand away and stood up, walking up the steps, over to the floor where Kurogane had put his duty belt. A sudden apprehension moved in Kurogane; Fai wouldn't be able to get the gun out, but he could probably get out the Taser or pepper spray –

He didn't know whether to laugh or be relieved or nervous; Fai came walking back with his handcuffs, but there was no coyness in his eyes. They had grown cold, and Kurogane had the sense that he wasn't getting the handcuffs as part of some unconventional sex game.

"You really want to understand?" Fai looked at him, expecting Kurogane to get up and leave him. The genuine shock on his face when Kurogane nodded cut him the worst; did Fai really think he didn't care about him enough to want to understand how he felt? To want to know _why?_

"Lean forward." Kurogane didn't question him, instead silently sitting up and doing so; Fai moved behind him, drawing his hands behind his back, and Kurogane felt the cuffs close around his wrists. A lesser known fact about handcuffs was how _unpleasant _they were: there was a reason why they sold padded ones in sex shops, and it had everything to do with the sharp metal that was cutting into his skin. Worse, the NYPD used the cuffs that snapped together in the middle, closing the three inches between them. His wrists crossed and cuffed, limbs pulled painfully behind his back, Fai walked in front of him and looked down, his arms shaking at his sides.

A whisper, loaded with anger and sadness and desperation, lashed out at him. "How do you feel?"

_Uncomfortable _was the first thing he thought, but it was more than that. He was kneeling here in front of Fai on the mattress, naked, craning his neck back to look up at him, and he was suddenly very aware that if Fai walked back over to his belt and came back with a Taser or pepper spray, he would be completely at his mercy.

"Exposed."

Fai looked as though he had been shot; he sucked in his breath, his eyes widening. Kurogane swallowed and shifted his weight, and Fai suddenly reached forward, slowly drawing Kurogane's gaze farther up, his finger under his chin. They looked into each other, the silence connecting them, and in those sapphires Kurogane saw a familiar hollow he had known, an empty hunger desperate for someone to understand, to fill it. Kurogane spoke, giving him his words.

"I feel trapped," he continued, his voice calm; it cost him nothing to speak the truth just as it was costing Fai everything to make him face those same feelings in himself. "And powerless." Fai kept staring, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And horrible. I feel horrible that this is how I make you feel."

Fai's hand fell away. "It's not you that makes me feel this way," he whispered. "But I'm glad you understand…I didn't think you could…"

"Fai." Kurogane ignored the fire building in his wrists, the ache in his arms. "You don't have to tell me why. I won't ask, either; it's your past, but…I don't want you to feel this way," he finished, his face growing hot. "At least, not when you're with me. Whatever it is, you don't have to carry it alone."

Fai's lips suddenly crushed into his own, cool and desperate. Kurogane closed his eyes and kissed back, not entirely sure he would get this opportunity again. He parted his lips and let Fai's tongue slide inside him, pressing against the roof his mouth as Fai's hands came up and dragged his nails down his chest, sharp, red lines of pleasure trailing in their wake.

Fai got up and left him kneeling there, moving toward one of the drawers on the side behind him. When he returned, he moved behind Kurogane, kissing at the back of his neck. He heard the sound of a cap opening and felt a trail of cold, thick liquid begin sliding down from the center of his back, down along his spine. He wondered briefly what he had just signed himself up for. _It doesn't matter, _he told himself, not if it would take that horrible expression – beyond sadness, _emptiness _– away, at least for a little while…at least for now.

Fai's voice was quiet in his ear. "Are you okay with this?"

Things weren't going quite the way he had hoped they were going, that was certain: he'd had a few, brief daydreams on the job of using his handcuffs while having sex, but in them, _he _was never the one cuffed, because _god damn _they hurt. He was also never the one with lube sliding down his spine, a gentle finger touching at him, coating itself, sliding over that tight muscle in tortuously slow circles, lighting every nerve in his body on fire.

"Don't ask." Kurogane's voice was raw. "Just do whatever you want."

Fai pushed inside him with one finger; Kurogane grunted and leaned forward, clenching his teeth, Fai's body following his, kissing at his neck, the side of his face, turning his chin toward him with his free hand to guide a kiss to his lips.

"You've never done it this way?" He got his answer as Kurogane's body broke out with goosebumps; Fai had dragged his finger out to the knuckle and then pushed back in. No, he had definitely _not _had sex this way, handcuffs and all, but Fai had stopped shaking. He could give up his control to him for the moment if it meant Fai could be relaxed, secure; he swallowed, trying to steady his breathing: he had control to give up in the first place. Fai had nothing.

"Not really."

"Not _really?_"

"_F-fuck!_" Kurogane threw his head back and nearly hit him with the force of it, chest heaving. Fai reached around, his fingers running over his muscles, tracing his abdominal lines upward. A second finger pushed inside him and Kurogane thought the world was quite possibly coming to an end; his body had never experienced something like this before, something so hyper-sensitive and _hot, _for fuck's sake – and it was almost too much to take in. His wrists were nearly bloody with the strain he was under, but Fai didn't notice, and Kurogane said nothing, incapable of speech: Fai was kissing his neck now, running his tongue up the taunt muscles until he came to Kurogane's ear, nibbling at the earlobe as his free hand gently rolled one of his nipples into a hardened peak.

"Does it feel good?"

His reply was a gasp as a third digit pressed inside him. The answer was yes – _yes, for fuck's sake, it feels good, you evil bastard – _but the ability to form a coherent sentence had escaped him. He was doubled over, leaning over his knees, Fai upright behind him now, his heart racing. Fai pulled out completely, and Kurogane's mind worked through a cloudy haze of over-stimulation and pleasure to understand the new sense of emptiness it was left to cope with. From somewhere far away, it seemed, there came the sound of a condom wrapper opening, and then more of that intensely, unbearably cool liquid was sliding down him.

Fai put both his hands on the edges of his hips and pushed in; Kurogane let out the single most undignified sound in his life, a strangled moan of disbelief and ecstasy.

"I rushed a little bit," Fai's voice whispered back in his ear now, his hips bucking into him. "Is it okay?"

He managed a grunt, his mind reeling from the incredible sensation of someone pushing inside him, a thousand nerve endings being rubbed against as he was entered, the friction building. Fai reached around him and grasped his cock, stroking it, and gave up in short order, lost to himself. A slight, stinging pain was beginning to bother him in the back of his mind, but he ignored it and focused on the pleasure that had gripped his entire body, tensing every nerve in him –

"Relax some." Fai pulled Kurogane's face around, smiling at the glazed, lost expression in those red eyes. "You're so tight, it almost hurts."

It took a willpower he hadn't previously known he had to relax; the stinging sensation disappeared, replaced by a wave of tingling pleasure, insistent and maddening and _unbelievably, _intoxicatinglygood,that crashed into him, crashed into him again, and then dragged him away, incoherent to a place in his mind where thought and time went to die, a place where the only thing that registered was Fai's nails digging into his thighs, the insistent rhythm that was rocking against him, and the sudden vibrations that were echoing through him.

Fai cried out as he came, collapsing forward. Kurogane fell with him, face down into the mattress, gasping as the blond rolled off him.

The world slowly came back to him; Kurogane rolled over, hazy red eyes searching for blue ones. "Did you come?"

"Did I _come? _I think I met god." Fai struggled to catch his breath as he sat up, glancing down at Kurogane's stiff member. He was different, Kurogane saw – lighter, freer…open. "Hold on."

"Wait, we don't – " Kurogane stopped and decided to let Fai do what he wanted, especially since what Fai wanted was to roll Kurogane completely onto his back. He grimaced as the handcuffs dug painfully into him again, focusing instead on the way Fai's body moved, lean and long, to reach over and grab the bottle of lube and a fresh condom, straddling him.

He opened his mouth to say something and shut it again, his cock growing harder as he watched Fai coat his fingers in the clear liquid, reaching around to relax and ready himself, his eyes rolling back, hair spilling over his shoulders. Kurogane had never considered himself much of a patient man, but with a view like this, he could have waited ages, watching that body unfurl and melt, then suddenly crouch over to him. Fai opened the condom up and plucked out the reservoir tip, balancing it on Kurogane's arousal. His index and middle finger gripped either side of it, slowly sliding it down.

Finally, it seemed, Fai climbed on top of him, gripped the base of his shaft, and lowered himself, pushing down. White, hot stars exploded behind his eyelids as Kurogane pushed upward to meet him, a heat so intense it nearly burned him as it slid down around his cock, the tightness constricting and twitching. Fai leaned down, his hair gliding like wings over his shoulders, and put his palms flat on Kurogane's chest, riding him as Kurogane's hips moved, bucking up into him. He'd heard him moan and gasp before, but never like this, never like each in-take of air might be his very last. Fai threw back his head and bit his bottom lip, his eyes shutting, and Kurogane thrust upward with a sudden possessiveness that made the blond cry out, fingers curling into him.

"Fai – I'm coming –"

"The _hell _you are…" Fai leaned down and lifted himself up on his knees, pulling his body away from him so that only the tip of Kurogane's cock could slide in and out. "Five more minutes."

"We're not talking about sleeping in!" He ached to plunge back into him, deeper and harder, but Fai was _killing _him, pulling away like that –

Nails dragged down along his hair, and Fai kissed him sweetly, deeply on his lips, moving down to suck at his nipple. "Five. More. _Minutes…_Kuro-rin."

Well, that did it.

Kurogane ignored the protest from his wrists and dug his feet into the bed, pushing himself up. Fai gasped as he thrust deeper into him with a sudden urgency, fucking him with a frenzied rhythm. He knew the moment he struck Fai's sweet spot, that sensitive little bundle of nerves deep inside him, from the way his body went rigid, his muscle clamping around him as he fell down completely, his body giving in to the intensity of the pleasure the same way Kurogane had surrendered to it. The sound of Fai's breathing close to his ear – desperate, adoring, shallow and needy and intimate – pushed him over the edge; he came, gasping with the force of it, his lungs burning.

Fai rolled off him; his bangs were plastered to his face with sweat, but Kurogane could see how his eyes glimmered. For the first time, his smile and his humor seemed sincere. "Bed time?"

Kurogane waited to answer until he could breathe normally. "Yea."

Someone had to get up and turn off the lights; neither did. They lay there, each unwilling to move, until Kurogane spoke, his voice shattering the pleasant stillness that had settled around them with a sentence he had never thought he'd utter.

"Fai?"

"Mm?"

"Go get the key to the handcuffs."

* * *

**Author's Note: Time to place your bets! **Everything is revealed tomorrow, so if you've got a theory you want to share, it'll be fun to see who's right and who's wrong! Let's hear 'em! As always, thanks for your time and for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** **Thanks Arctic Bee! **Hm, if you originally thought that, have you since changed your mind? And birthday parties = :D **Thanks Renly!** Aw, I'm sorry, everything everywhere comes to an end T_T And you're spot on, the thunder was meant to be an ironic poke at that detail! You guys are sharp as hell. **Thanks, Guest!** That's an interesting theory! Can't tell you if you're right, though! **Thanks, xwittychickx!** *speaks in an unncesscarily mysterious voice* All of the answers will be revealed...! And thanks so much for your compliments and your constructive feedback, you are really too kind! Okay everyone, here it is...it's a beast of a chapter (told you they got longer) so I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Fai wasn't there in the morning.

He had fallen asleep in Kurogane's arms, his head face-down in the crook near his neck, one thin limb flung over Kurogane's chest. In the middle of the night he had awoken out of a dream he couldn't remember to find Fai, his body relaxed in a deep sleep, breathing against him. Something heavy swooped into the hollow that had been growing inside him, filling it, and stuck. Warm and content in the darkness, he had fallen back asleep, but the sudden cold that resulted from absence woke him a few hours later.

A note was on the counter.

_Gone to work early. Don't worry about the mess or about locking up. See you around._

Kurogane looked down at the note, puzzled. It seemed oddly…cold.

He dressed, hoisting his belt on. He had piled the backseat of his cruiser with the kids' toys last night, so all that was left to do was walk out the door and let it swing shut behind him. Kurogane hesitated, looking around the apartment one more time: now that'd he stared at it long enough, something occurred to him: the first time he'd visited Fai's place something had bothered him, but he hadn't been sure what. Now it hit him full in the face: there was nothing personal here. Expensive furniture, top-of-the-line appliances, interesting architecture, flowers…it could have been an apartment out of a magazine, filled enough to suggest life but blank enough in the specifics for anyone to project their own lives into. The refrigerator was blank; nothing was taped on it, no pictures of the girls or to-do lists. The basket with gardening supplies was gone. The only personal item was the note, telling him not to worry about the mess or locking the place up.

Tomoyo was staying with the boys when he got back to his place; she helped him carry their birthday presents upstairs, assuring him that they'd be no problem for the day. He was still working out a permanent solution; Kobato worked part-time at the cupcake shop and part-time for him now all while being a student, and while she assured him she could get her schedule adjusted to baby-sit full time next week, he still expected her parents to call any day now and tell him to leave their daughter alone or pay her more. Plus, he still felt bad knowing Tomoyo was carving time out of her work to watch _his_ foster kids. The saying was true: it really did take a village to raise a single child, let alone two. Tomoyo, for her part, was neither annoyed nor inconvenienced; she was happy to do it, she assured him, and told him to have a good day at work as he left.

"Any developments?" He snorted, his temper bad. He had passed Yuuko on the top floor of the Manhattan headquarters, and he knew the answer would be no.

"Yes," she said, surprising him. "But nothing we can do anything with right now."

"But something?"

"Something," she said, and left it at that, slipping past him into the elevator.

_Lunch? _

He texted Fai around noon and waited until almost two o'clock for an answer. _He's busy, _he told himself, and left it at that. He spent the rest of the afternoon listening to his superiors debrief them about next Friday, when the Police Commissioner, the Mayor, and other noteworthies would be attending the annual April reopening of the Central Park Carousel. Kusanagi ribbed in the meeting, mouthing "I hate guard duty" at him. Kurogane just nodded: life went on. The Commissioner and the Mayor alike had private teams to guard their well-being, but any event at Central Park required all of the guns to cover all of the grounds.

He went on patrol that night, passing the boarded up carousel, peering through the dark. Spring was in its prime now, a mild night wind blowing. He tried texting Fai again – _I get off work at 11. Want to get drinks? _– and received nothing back in return. He spent the evening thinking about the note and the sterile apartment, chastising himself for being bothered by anything at all.

On Tuesday he decided to do the unthinkable: ask Souma for advice.

"If someone doesn't return a text message, should you call them?"

Souma eyed him suspiciously, as if she couldn't quite believe this conversation was happening. She shifted in the passenger seat of the cruiser.

"Is it someone you're close with?" He shrugged, hoping to seem casual. Souma frowned. "I would just call….unless you're worried about coming off as desperate."

Kurogane was _not _desperate (he thought)…but he was beginning to get worried. _Why _he was worried, or about what he didn't know, but the feeling was growing in him. Women put their stock in diamonds; instinct was a police officer's best friend.

_Lunch? _He tried again.

An hour later, after lunch hour had passed, he finally got a text back: _Busy._

On Wednesday he skipped his lunch break, unable to ignore the growing unease in his gut, and went to The Flower Shop. The air was every bit as sweet as he remembered it being, but different flowers had blossomed since the last time he had been there.

He walked up the stairs, pausing. Fai was in the back, bent over a tomato plant. He was wearing his dirty pair of overalls; he was covered in soil up to his elbows as he repotted a particularly fertile plant that was bursting with the small, green beginnings of the vegetable. Kurogane watched him, admiring the way he worked: his face was deep in concentration as he considered the implications of snipping off a single leaf, puzzling at how to best shape the plant to yield life.

"Fai."

He looked up with a start, dropping the shears. Fai's face went white; he scrambled to his feet, patting the dirt off his overalls. Kurogane stopped in front of the rows of herbs, staring hard at him…and frowned.

"You cut your hair."

Fai's hand nervously flew up to the back of his neck where the ponytail used to be. He smiled, laughed, shrugged. "Thought it was time for a change," he said.

"I liked it long."

Fai didn't reply; he stood there like some sort of statue, smiling politely and waiting for Kurogane to either speak or leave.

"Are you avoiding me?"

"I'm _busy._" He bent down and picked up the shears. "These tomatoes are coming in faster than I anticipated. They'll be delicious when I'm done." When Kurogane remained standing, making no sign of leaving, his smile faltered, then fell away. "…Shouldn't you be at work yourself?" He looked him up and down, taking in his uniform.

Kurogane grunted, turned on his heel, and left.

Tomoyo was nice enough to agree to watch the kids on Thursday; Tsubasa watched him as he shrugged out of his police uniform and into plain clothes.

"Are you going to see Fai?" He sounded hopeful.

"Yea."

Tsubasa got up, left the room, and came back with a handmade card. "Tomoyo helped us make it. It's a thank-you note."

Kurogane reached down and took it, slipping it into his pants pocket. "I'll make sure he gets it," he said.

He was going to be pissed if he had to resort to sliding it under Fai's door. He knocked for five minutes straight, and when that didn't work, he resorted to banging against the door frame, fist, forearm, and all.

The locks finally shuffled, and the door opened. Fai stood in the doorway, a look of severe annoyance blazing in his eyes.

"If I didn't answer the first time you knocked, what would make you think it's a good idea to just stand out here and _bang _on my door until I did?"

"It worked, didn't it?" He tried to step forward, but Fai stood still, planted in his way. Kurogane stopped and felt his anger suddenly leave him, replaced by a sudden fear and coldness. "Fai, if this is about the other night…"

"Look." Fai sighed, doing his best to stare into his eyes and meet his gaze. "I didn't really know how to say this, earlier. You're a…a nice person." It sounded like the worst insult Kurogane had ever had flung at him. "But I don't think this is going to work. At all." His voice had dropped, his knuckles white on the doorknob.

"You're lying." Kurogane shook his head, not understanding – how could he have gone from throwing a birthday party for his foster kids to…to _this, _this stranger in front of him, looking at him as if he were a distant friend of a friend he had no real interest in, without any explanation, any warning, any signs. It was like a switch had been thrown, one that he couldn't see or figure out how to switch back.

"I know you're not the best at it," Fai said, his voice measured and icy, "But I would like you to go back to trying to avoid me, if you don't mind."

"Fai – what's going on?"

"Has no ever turned you down before?" Something angry flashed in those sapphires, and Kurogane studied him, disbelieving what he was seeing, hearing. Fai was shaking with the effort of standing there, saying this to him, as if he had never hated anyone in the whole world as much as he hated Kurogane. "_Leave._"

"Here." He dug the card out of his pocket and handed it to him. Fai handled it as if it were some sort of live rattlesnake, gingerly and wary. "It's from the kids. Thanks," he added, his voice bitter, "For all you did."

The ride home was empty, filled only by the silence. He wanted to be angry at Fai, but the only emotions that gripped him were confusion and sadness. He couldn't understand why Fai was doing this so suddenly, but the sorrow was real: he lost something, something he was beginning to need in his life, and it hurt.

It hurt like hell.

* * *

A lonely week passed; Kurogane waited for a text, a call, something…_anything. _There had been nothing. Now, standing in the spring sunshine of Central Park, Kurogane was struggling to let himself be happy…and single.

Yuuko was beside herself.

"The Commissioner wants me to ride the carousel with him!" Her police cap balanced smartly on her head as she clasped her hands together in delight.

"Try not to show your tits to the kids," Kurogane grumbled. Yuuko discreetly buttoned up another eyelet, nodding.

Central Park was packed: the spring weather had called out the city to its fondest location, families clustering around the carousel, where a small podium had been erected for the speakers. Kurogane and the rest of the NYPD were required to donate three hours of their time today to the festivities. The only perk was that he had brought the twins and Tomoyo in tow.

"I've told them a hundred times they'll get to ride it and they still keep asking," Tomoyo laughed. "Syaoran says he wants to ride a lion."

Kurogane glanced down at the kids. "You tell him it's just horses?"

"I didn't have the heart," she whispered.

The Commissioner was already there, his hair pulled back neatly in a ponytail that the wind was stubbornly trying to undo. His son stood next to him, dark and brooding, glaring through the sea of people at a little brown-haired boy who was rushing forward, hugging a little girl with green eyes –

"_Sakura!_"

"_Tsubasa!"_

They both bellowed their charges names and dragged them away in opposite directions.

"There's too many people here for you to go off by yourself. Stay with Tomoyo; do you understand?"

Tsubasa nodded.

He left them with Tomoyo to take up his position with Souma, bored by the whole thing. The wooden panels were drawn back to tremendous applause, the Mayor gave a brief speech, and the first round of kids were ushered up onto the carousel, shouts of joy carrying all through the park as vendors sold the usual wares: ice cream, hot dogs, lemonade.

"I wouldn't mind a little girl of my own," Souma mused. "Kendappa and I – "

"I don't want to hear about you and your girlfriend," he snapped.

They remained in silence; he could just make out the twins on the carousel. Tsubasa's hand reached across the way to clutch at Sakura's on her horse.

"Boyfriend troubles?"

Kurogane sighed. "Not anymore."

"Get into a fight?"

"Got into a break up."

Souma blinked. "But you two seemed just fine last Sunday…what happened?"

"Don't know." He crossed his arms over his chest. "He stopped returning my texts, didn't want to see me, and when he did, said it was over. Just like that. How much longer is this going to last?" He was restless, wanting to get back to his own affairs.

"Another hour or so," she said, and then added, her voice surprisingly sympathetic, "Sorry that one didn't work out."

When the crowds began to thin an hour and a half later, Kurogane walked down to the carousel, searching for Tomoyo to tell the kids goodbye. She turned to him, relieved.

"Oh, there you are! Where's Tsubasa?"

"How would I know?"

Tomoyo paled. "He got off the carousel with Sakura and said he was going to see you."

"He didn't." Kurogane snorted; the kid probably dragged his little girlfriend off behind a tree somewhere to play doctor. Eight-year-olds could be trouble.

Tomoyo was more worried; she wheeled around, clutching Syaoran's arm. The boy picked up on her tension, suddenly worried. He looked up at Kurogane for reassurance as the crowd swarmed past them, and Kurogane gave a brief grin, as if to say, _forget it, kid, it's fine._

* * *

It wasn't fine.

It was close to sundown and neither Sakura nor Tsubasa had turned up. An Amber Alert had been issued, but it wasn't as if Central Park could shut its doors when the barriers were the sky and earth itself. The police force was spread all over the park, and word of mouth spread within minutes through the intercom and two-way systems, but four hours later, there was still no success. Kurogane made Tomoyo take Syaoran home; the twin was terrified now, his eyes two wide, frozen disks, and Kurogane didn't want to put him through any more stress.

All three of the NYPD bloodhounds had been loosed in the park; they picked up on the scent, tracing a trail that led a mile in one direction, then a mile back in the other, then across, back…eight-year-olds didn't have that have that kind of energy. The park was too big; they would have tired long before they'd gotten halfway through that insane trek. Everyone was thinking the same, horrible thing: he could see it in their eyes. The bloodhounds wasted two hours tracking a trail that led in circles before finally drawing close to the exit near 7th avenue, down near the theatre district. When the hounds made to cross the street, into the city, Kurogane's blood froze.

Yuuko was beside him, saying something to calm him down, but all he could hear was the traffic. The park ended, the skyscrapers reared up, and New York City – the city he loved, with all its imperfections, its hide-aways, its oddities and absurdities and wonders – looked suddenly ugly, dirty…dangerous.

"We're leaving a large force in the park just in case." Yuuko was speaking on the phone, nodding. "The rest of us are going to head back to headquarters. Yes…I understand."

Souma drove; Kurogane didn't remember getting in the car, or climbing the stairs up to the debriefing room, or sinking numbly into a chair. Kusanagi was there, patting him on the back, telling him not worry – kids wandered off, he said, and since Sakura was with him, the Commissioner's daughter, there was no higher priority than tracking them down. His squad mates trekked in one by one, even Yuzuriha with her dog; Inuki licked his hand, resting his head on Kurogane's knee, but already the sun was setting. Hours had already passed, and Kurogane had been on the force long enough to know that every moment counted against you in a missing persons case.

The door opened.

Kurogane looked up sharply, hoping for something, anything that would give him some hope or some way to feel useful. Yuuko stood in the doorway, her expression grim. Beside her, Seishiro looked equally serious, his glass eye fixed on Kurogane.

"Kurogane." Yuuko stepped forward, addressing him directly. "We have a lead on the children."

It didn't sound like good news; the words sunk into him like poison. He stood up and faced them, preparing himself for what was to come.

Seishiro cleared his throat. "One of Yuuko's informants overheard a conversation in a bar …a conversation between Kyle Rondart and an associate, discussing about how the children were abducted from the park on the orders of Fei-Wang Reed."

Yuuko picked up. "There's no need to be coy – I've had to out the informant's identity so the SWAT team doesn't shoot him by accident. Fuuma Monou, the owner of _Fuuma's, _near the theatre district, overheard the conversation and is currently en route, tracking Rondart as we speak."

Kurogane felt a stiffening in the room behind him.

"SWAT team?" Souma stood up hastily, alarmed. "Why do we need a SWAT team?"

"Fuuma reported that Rondart said the children were being taken either to the Waldorf-Astoria or the Library hotel. The NYPD is about to make the headlines again, boys," she said, humorlessly. "We're sending out SWAT teams to surround each hotel. Park Avenue is going to shut down. We're going to have all of New York City's full, undivided attention."

Kurogane's mind raced; both hotels were on Park Ave, but one was close to Bryant Park and Grand Central Station, the other a straight shoot down 49th to the Rockefeller Plaza, two places that reminded him painfully of Fai. He shoved those thoughts out of his head, concentrating on something bigger, something more ugly –

"This is clearly a set-up." Souma spoke, a slight tremor in her voice. "Everything about this is too forced, too coincidental – the kids go missing, then it just so happens that Rondart shows up in a bar one of your informants owns, talking about, in public, where he took the kids? No. That just wouldn't happen. Anyone familiar with the history of this case knows that this has happened before, that –"

"Souma." Yuuko's voice was quiet but sharp. Souma stopped, silencing herself as Yuuko nodded.

"I will agree that this doesn't look good, but I will not endanger the lives of any of my officers on either of these squads." She paused, letting her words sink in. "We have a decision to make."

Kurogane felt his anger growing; he was about to shout at her to go fuck herself, he would tear through each hotel himself if it meant finding the kids, forget about his life –

Seishiro spoke up, glass eye flashing, his voice low and dangerous. "I do not wish to see either of those children hurt," he said, and his sincerity was palpable, charged. Kurogane felt his eerie gaze still on him. "I think we can both agree that losing his brother would upset Syaoran very much."

"I want in." Kurogane's fists clenched. "The rest of you can do what you want – put me in a SWAT uniform, if you have to, but I'm not going to fucking sit here while those kids are hurt by that bastard –"

"You're not a SWAT member, so that's out of the question," Yuuko said.

"Count me in." Yuzuriha stood up, Inuki heeling at her side. Kusanagi nodded next to her, and in unison, the others joined, each taking deep breaths to steady themselves: it looked like a trap a mild wide, a trap constructed with the lowest regard for their intelligence, like one would set for a particularly stupid animal that would blunder its way in, regardless…and they were willing to walk into it for the sake of the kids, and if it was true – if Fei-Wang had set it up for them, just as he had set it up years ago – then they were every bit as stupid as he thought they were. They'd lost.

Yuuko nodded at them all. "I figured as much. Here is our plan: we'll be stationed outside each building with about thirty back-up units, but at no point will we engage. We've called in the fire department to block off 50th to 61st. Souma, you and your team will take up residence outside the Library Hotel – Kurogane, you and yours will be outside the Waldorf-Astoria. SWAT is preparing to raid each of them within a half hour. We have yet to alert the hotel staff because we do not know who we can trust within each building, and moreover, we don't want to incite a civilian panic while alerting Fei-Wang to move just yet, if he is at either location. He wants us there and cornered, but we don't need to tell him the exact moment we plan to strike, so we can't issue an evacuation on either building. Right before SWAT enters, we'll issue a warning for residents to return to their rooms and get out of the common areas; we'll also be shutting down most of electric transport systems inside and putting the building on lock down. Some of the Waldorf is on the same electric grid as Grand Central, particularly the inner Towers, so we won't be able to shut off everything. Fei-Wang has a substantial group of people working for him, so we are expecting to open fire – which is exactly what he wants, because he doesn't care if civilians get killed, and I have no doubt he wants to see us shut down."

Seishiro gave her a sideways glance. "Have you heard more from Fuuma?"

"No. I don't know which hotel Fuuma ended up following Rondart to, but he's trailing him, trying to locate the kids, but I've lost contact with him. SWAT has been given strict orders _not _to shoot him if they encounter him, and to let him go with the hope he'll help us get to Reed. Listen, everyone." She spoke quietly and slowly, her eyes sweeping over them all. "I want us to keep our heads – I know our emotions are running high, but this could be our break. We could end up taking Fei-Wang himself in on this one. We received word two weeks ago that he was planning something, though the details were unavailable, that he wished to handle himself. His longstanding hatred for Commissioner Clow Reed leads me to believe that he wants Sakura for himself, so at some point he will have to make contact with Rondart if he has the kids, so the probability is high that he _is_ in one of those hotels and that SWAT can flush him out."

"Tsubasa," Kurogane said. "What about him?"

Yuuko stared at him, her gaze uncompromising, and spoke the truth. "I think he took Tsubasa purely as a full proof incentive to make sure we would throw ourselves before him. Your father tracked him for years; I believe he intends to wipe us out in a matter of hours…but I also believe he has grown arrogant, and that will make all the difference, because, Kurogane," she said, her voice quiet, "I also believe he views Tsubasa as expendable once he's achieved those goals."

* * *

Everywhere the blue and red of the police vehicle lights were flashing. Traffic on Park Avenue had come to a standstill, and Kurogane stood outside the Waldorf-Astoria, looking up at the towering building, this glittering relic of New York City, and checked the magazine in his gun for the fifth time. Still loaded. Night had fallen, making the lights more bright, more painful, as Kurogane squinted, watching the SWAT team empty out of the vans that had pulled up, getting their gear ready to go.

Yuzuriha touched his elbow. "We're doing all that we can," she tried, but Kurogane turned away.

Law enforcement didn't handle situations like this: the big guns were called, and being called, they came. He didn't care that some man he didn't know might shoot Fei-Wang and finally send him back to whatever hell he was born in; he didn't want the glory, or the revenge.

He wanted Tsubasa, safe, and Sakura, too, all or nothing, and it was fucking killing him to wait outside the building.

He could see Yuuko directing more officers about two hundred yards away, signaling the SWAT team to go in. He felt detached, useless. Yuuko turned, looked at him, and spoke through the intercom of his car, her voice carrying through the open window.

"We've got reports that SWAT has opened fire at the Library," she said. "A group of Fei-Wang's men are there and have engaged the SWAT team that entered a minute ago. That could mean that he's stationed there, or that he feels confident enough in his forces to engage us at both locations to take out as many of our men as possible. It also confirms that Rondart was telling the truth to Fuuma."

_Which means that this is a confirmed set-up. _She didn't need to say it; he could see the same realization on his squadmates' faces. Kurogane waited, listening…and the sound of gunshots, closer, began as SWAT disappeared completely into the Waldorf.

Yuuko turned away in the distance, but her voice, close and deadly calm, came back over the system. "This is Yuuko Ichihara: we have confirmed engagement. The first gunshot was fired in the stairs on the third floor. No civilian causalities to report; minor panic coming from within. We've secured the outside perimeter." She was still talking as he began to walk away from the car, his pace picking up.

"Kurogane!" Yuzuriha jogged behind him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going in."

"No, you're not." Kusanagi grabbed his arm. "If you don't get yourself killed, you'll get yourself stripped of your rank for doing something so ridiculously stupid."

Kurogane shook his arm out of Kusanagi's grasp. "I'm going in," he repeated. "I can't stand here and wait."

Souma moved forward and spoke up now from behind him, shaking her head. "Please, Kurogane – you don't even know if it's worth it. You heard Yuuko – SWAT is under fire at both locations, and the kids might not even be at either. We have no confirmation that Rondart took them here; for all we know, our men are getting shot at for nothing. You've got to listen to us –"

He took off running, faster than the rest of them except for maybe Shogo, who was already sprinting at his heels, knowing full well that Yuzuriha wouldn't unleash Inuki to stop him, that Yuuko would turn around too late, shouting for him to stop, that his men would not fire at him, and ran through the lobby doors, gun in hand. On his belt, his two-way relayed to him the chaos he had just caused: Yuuko wasn't even bothering to order him to stop and exit the building, knowing it for the waste of time it would be. Instead, his own team was being ordered to get in and drag him out by force if necessary, even if it required subduing him with a Taser or pepper spray.

They'd have to shoot him to stop him, he thought, heading for the stairs. The elevators had been shut down in the Waldorf just before SWAT stormed in; Kurogane followed the sound of gun shots, exiting on the eighth floor as below him Inuki's barking echoed.

The chandeliers had been shattered, their crystal littering the plush carpet hallway, the famous palm trees' broad leaves shredded in their pots. Two bodies of men dressed in all black, like the men Kurogane had gunned down in the streets outside The Black Spider, lay in puddles of their own rank blood, and there was screaming coming from people in plain clothes as they rushed past him, racing for safety in their rooms, behind sofas, anywhere that might be safe.

He ducked to the left as a bullet ricocheted off the gilded frame of a painting behind him, dropping to his knees behind a SWAT officer's shield. Through his helmet, the SWAT officer looked shocked to see a member of the NYPD suddenly pushing him out of the way, firing at a man who had moved around a split-off hallway, shooting at them.

Kurogane's bullet left the man in the same condition as the others: dead, or at best, dying. He could hear the others down the stairs behind him as he ran forward, darting down the hallway the man had come. The SWAT team had broken off into individual cells, engaging different small groups of men at different levels as he climbed, civilians eager to get out of their way. Kurogane searched, listening for Inuki's barking to signal his premature departure from the NYPD if they caught up to him. Yuuko would fire him in a heartbeat after this, not that it mattered. If he could get the kids, if he could just reach them, she could put him in prison for all he cared. _They might not be here, _Souma had said, and it was true, but Yuuko's words - _Reed has grown arrogant, and that will make all the difference _– repeated in his head like a prayer. The kids might not be here…but it was a 50/50 shot that they just _might. _It was a shot he had to take, trap or not, career or no: Reed had stolen too much from him already.

"_Lieutenant Suwa!_"

Kurogane looked up; a vaguely familiar man was crouched in the hallway, a .44, long-barreled Magnum revolver pointed low at the ground. He wore a brown, baggy jacket stained with smeared blood – _smeared, _Kurogane noticed, which meant it wasn't his own – and a small pair of spectacles on his nose.

"Fuuma!" Kurogane shouted to the bartender across the hallway; a bullet sailed between them. Fuuma leaned out, squinted one eye, aimed, and shot: the man down the hallway fell dead. Fuuma stepped out, reloading his gun.

"Head for the Towers," he called. "I saw Rondart go that way – the elevators should still be working in that section. I'll be behind you."

Fuuma turned as a man came around the corner they had just come, shooting him through both kneecaps, him aim unaffected by the recoil of his gun. Kurogane didn't ask any more questions; he turned and sprinted for the stairs at the other end of the hall again, fueled by his adrenaline. The Waldorf Towers were infamous in New York, the home to many of the former gangsters of glory: the "hotel within a hotel" began at the 28th floor where Kurogane came to a halt, his lungs burning, two of his magazines empty, the hotel doors shut and locked on either side of him.

The elevator was in use. His heart slowed, watching the numbers tick by as it went up, and up…and stopped, right at the 39th floor, just three below the top deck.

He slammed his fist against the elevator, cursing it, hating each second of the wait. It would take him longer to make it back to the stairs and climb up the eleven floors, getting shot at as he went, wasting the bullets he had left, than just wait for it to come back down – _35…33…30…_ and carry him up.

Fuuma came running to him, a fresh wound in his leg. "Bullet grazed me!" He gave a cheery smile, as if he was quite used to being shot at in the New York's finest luxury hotel, and pushed Kurogane into the elevator as the doors opened, punching the "close doors" button just as three of Fei-Wang's men rounded the corner. The bullets sounded like rain on a tin roof as they hit the elevator doors, carrying them up.

Fuuma gasped, catching his breath. "SWAT is mowing them down, but they're putting up one hell of a fight. I saw SWAT go up early to floors 30, 33, and 36, which they should then canvas and fill out, moving to the other floors. Any particular reason we're heading to 39? I just shot a _lot _of bullets, and between you and me, I'm running low. What's in the gun is all I've got left at this point."

"Same." Kurogane held the Glock with both hands, waiting for the elevator to open, and didn't answer his question. Bullet-ridden, the doors slid apart.

The silence bothered him; it was eerily quiet on the 39th floor after all of the noise and bloodshed below. A single suite took up the entire floor, its door neatly closed, as if the occupant couldn't be bothered by all the ruckus on Park Avenue.

Kurogane stood outside of it and took a deep breath. Fuuma hung back by the elevator, ripping a piece of his jacket off to tie around his bleeding thigh. Kurogane didn't have time to wait for him to doctor himself – someone had come up to this floor. Someone had gotten off the elevator and gone into the only room available to go into. He was taking a gamble with his life – _all in, bases loaded – _and he gripped his father's gun, readying himself.

Kurogane kicked open the door, arms stretched out, the barrel of his gun aimed straight ahead, and felt the shock of his instincts and training desert him.

The penthouse suite's back wall was entirely glass: all of New York City glittered through it like a multi-faceted, million-dollar gemstone winking in the night, and far below, the red and blue of the police cars that had surrounded the building shone the most brightly. Ivory carpet stretched out before him, leading to a large, crescent-shaped white leather couch, where there, sleeping, their hands clasped together, lay Sakura and Tsubasa.

Kurogane's throat tightened, and a slight tremble began at the tip of his Glock as his grip grew unsteady.

Fai sat next to the children, stroking Sakura's hair gently, pulling it out of her face. He looked up with an expression of complete disinterest, as one might stare at an insect in the street. Blue eyes, hollow and empty, blinked at him.

"Fai," he managed.

Fai looked at him – looked straight down the barrel of his gun as if it was a toy of some sort – and then looked into his eyes, sending icy shivers down his spine.

"Hello, Kurogane."

He took a step forward, drawing his gun up higher, gripping it too tightly now for an even shot. "The kids –"

"They're fine." Fai's voice was flat. "Just drugged."

His mind was racing to catch up with the situation, to make it all add up quick and seem like something, _anything, _other than this, what it was starting to look like... He swallowed his nerves, steadied the gun again, and managed to ask in a calm, level voice, "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

He'd heard that voice before, in his dreams. It was remarkable how spot on he had imagined it – deep, arrogant, amused. Fei-Wang emerged from the master bedroom as if Kurogane was an expected guest – one he knew well, in fact – with all the ease of a man who had just moved his bishop on the chest board and looked up into his opponent's eyes, grinning, and whispered "_Checkmate" _through pointed teeth. His beard was neatly manicured, his eyes gleaming, and he wore long, silk robes, as if he had just been in the process of relaxing with a nice bottle of wine when Kurogane decided to drop by.

In his right hand, he had a gun trained on Tsubasa's head – a .500 Smith and Wesson revolver.

Kurogane pointed his Glock at Fei-Wang's hand and felt a cold muzzle press into the back of his neck.

"Whoah, now," Fuuma's voice sounded behind him. "I'd put that gun away, if I were you."

"Excellent timing, Fuuma." Fei-Wang nodded graciously to him.

Kurogane felt his insides go cold, as if he had been plunged in ice water. "Fuuma?"

"Yep, it's me." Fuuma's voice was light. "Sorry about tricking you – not to mention Yuuko! – since you're a pretty nice guy and all, but it wasn't very considerate of you to lead your teammates into this, you know. You were so busy running forward you never stopped to see who I was shooting at behind you. What was it you were telling me about him, Fai? Oh, now I remember – you called him a 'one-track pony.' You weren't kidding!" He laughed, friendly and amicable, and the barrel of his gun pressed harder into the back of his head.

Kurogane remained still, the gun cold against his skin. He could see Fuuma in his mind, smiling behind him as he chatted on. "Pretty convenient that Kyle would just happen to pass through _my _bar_, _me – when I'm supposed to be an undercover for Yuuko – and talk about his super, secret plans, huh?"

A toilet flushed somewhere to his right, from the guest room. Kyle Rondart emerged, slipping a Derringer out of his pocket and twirling it around his finger, grinning at Kurogane. "Sorry, I wanted to be here when you walked in," he said. "I just caught the tail end of what Fuuma said – seriously, how stupid can the NYPD be? We have enough men to keep the SWAT team busy for the next hour, long after we're gone, and not only will that wipe out half your force, it should take out enough civilians to make the city cry out for more than a few letters of resignation. Yuuko will get stripped of her title, the ranks will get shuffled around, and your little investigation will get shut down. Meanwhile, the Towers are connected directly to Grand Central – we'll be halfway across the city, on our way off this island. Didn't anyone think to notice what a big coincidence this was? Did no one cry 'set up?'"

Kurogane felt the adrenaline flowing through his body, his thoughts oddly calm, and when he spoke, he was surprised to find himself saying, "There's no such thing as coincidence."

"Yuuko said that once," Fei-Wang's rich voice rang out, deeply amused. "Oh? You seem surprised – we've met, of course. It was a long time ago, but one does not forget Yuuko Ichihara. Now, do as Fuuma suggested – I don't want room service to have to clean your brains out of this lovely carpet, especially as they'll be so tired cleaning up your teammates' blood down below. This is a historic place, you know. Oh, no need to drop it on the ground – go ahead, Lieutenant Suwa. Reholster your gun. There…you look so professional. Just how I had hoped to see you – you look so much like your father. As I recall, he fell for the same ploy some years ago. Like father, like son."

Fuuma moved to his right, keeping the gun trained on his head as Kurogane stood there, arms at his side, watching as Fei-Wang stepped forward, standing at the back of the couch. His right hand remained gripping the gun, the barrel right at Tsubasa's temple, but his left hand slid over the seat, down onto Fai's shoulder. Somewhere inside that empty shell of a human being, something reacted: Fai flinched, a movement so small that only Kurogane noticed it.

"This all must come as a terrible shock to you." Fei-Wang slid his fingers up along Fai's neck, breezing them through the short strands at the back of his neck where his ponytail had been cut off. "Your father bothered me for years; I wasn't about to let his son do the same. I wanted to take care of this all quickly and efficiently, but Kyle does have a point – Yuuko is annoying, but she isn't stupid. I half expected her to back down from this and let me have the children. I would be lying if I said I wasn't delighted that things have worked out much better than even I had expected – and I had expected them to go very, very well."

Kurogane watched the way his fingertips lingered on the back of Fai's neck and decided he would be happy to die if it meant saving the kids. "Seishiro," he said, his voice thick with anger. "Seishiro convinced us –"

"Oh, my brother," Fuuma said, nodding. "That makes sense, he was always good in a bind."

Kurogane's fists clenched; he had no idea they were related – did Yuuko?. "Him, too?"

Fei-Wang smiled. "No; Seishiro keeps a lovely little pet that I threatened to take if he didn't cooperate with us on occasion. You may recall my thank-you note I left for you at the docks for ruining the Hyang deal; he saw Kyle leave the scene and didn't say anything. He told Fuuma how angry you were with him…it must have been amusing to see."

Kurogane had felt despair settle into his gut, but now it uncoiled as a small seed of hope grew in him: Yuuko's words still echoed in his skull, reinforced by the reality in front of his eyes. Kurogane believed him when he said Seishiro saw Kyle escape and didn't say anything; he believed him that Fuuma was indeed his brother, but there was one thing that didn't add up. Kurogane knew very little about that man with one frightening glass eye, but of one thing he was sure: he wouldn't let anyone threaten Subaru and then live with the constant threat to the young man's live, because a threat against Subaru was a threat against _him…_and Seishiro, he knew, was a man who didn't like being threatened. He might play along for awhile, biding his time to strike back, Kurogane hoped. No, something wasn't quite right…Fei-Wang had misjudged Seishiro, and if that was true, of how much else could he be certain of?

"What are you thinking, Lieutenant Suwa?" Fei-Wang smiled pleasantly, as if they were old friends, catching up. "You look so thoughtful all of a sudden."

Kurogane didn't answer; instead, he forced his eyes back down to Fai, who stared back at him, unfeeling.

"What are you doing here?" He tried again, hoping for an answer other than the obvious. _Say you're here against your will, say they abducted you _–

"Go ahead, Fai," Fei-Wang laughed. "Answer him."

"I'm here because I work for Fei-Wang," he said, his eyes flashing.

"I don't believe you."

"Then you're an idiot." Fai whispered the words, his voice harsh and cruel.

Kurogane realized he was protesting like a fool, unable to stop himself. "You work at a flower shop – you live in Tribeca –"

" – And his name isn't Fai," Fei-Wang added, grinning. "In all these years, do you think I've gone anywhere? I've stayed here, in _my _city. This hotel is just one of about a dozen places where I live, relaxed, unbothered. New York City is a big enough place to get lost in – especially if you have the money to pay for anonymity, for different names and identities. You can buy anything: apartments, suites, cars, and no one has to ever know who you really are. Yuuko suspected Fai was one of my men – she set a detective to tail him nearly a year ago, but she was never able to confirm who he really was_._" He said the words with relish, delighted to have out-pawned the Chief of the New York Police Department. "Let me guess; did you tell him your last name was Fluorite?" Fei-Wang reached down and lifted Fai's chin up delicately, staring into his eyes. Fai nodded.

The man threw back his head and laughed. "It's made-up," Fei-Wang explained. "But it's a favorite of his, one of many. Fai doesn't have a last name – he lost it a long time ago when I bought him and his brother and had them shipped over to this very city. You were so little then," he added, addressing Fai; he let his face go and left his hand lingering on his shoulder. "His _twin_ was named Fai; _his _name is Yuui."

Kurogane didn't care what his name was. He stared desperately into those sapphires and tried to find something inside them, speaking only to him. "What happened to your brother?"

"Oh, come _on_." Kyle rolled his eyes. "Do you even know what we _do_, what happens to the children we take?"

"It doesn't matter what happened to him." Fai might as well have been speaking about someone he didn't know and had only vaguely heard spoken about; he gave no sign of being moved. "He's dead now. I've been using his name as a pseudonym as a matter of convenience for years. That's all." Fai looked up at Fei-Wang, looking mildly distressed to do so. "Why are you telling him this?"

"Because it's entertaining to watch his face." Fei-Wang's reprimand struck him like a blow; Fai cringed and sank into the couch. "This isn't a movie, Lieutenant Suwa – I won't keep talking and then suddenly SWAT will arrive and shoot me, saving you in the nick of time. I can be out through Grand Central in a matter of minutes – it's only a matter of how quickly I can get dressed, and as you can see, there's no need for me to rush. As your father discovered the hard way, I'm not that stupid. Your men are dead. Fuuma saw to that, as I saw to you being a stupid, brazen fool."

Kurogane felt as though he had died himself, and worse, he knew that Fei-Wang's grin, wild and vicious, was the result of the blood draining from his face and the involuntary way his eyes had widened. "It was a stroke of luck that Yuuko sent your dogs in after you – oh, did you not know? I've got a tap-in on your communication system; Seishiro has always been good for a few favors, if persuaded the right way."

The seedling of hope in Kurogane began to whither, dying. He was wrong, just as his father had been wrong, and somewhere the men and women he had chosen to protect him were dead, because he couldn't hold up his end of the bargain and protect _them, _and Fai was still looking at him with cold, expressionless eyes. He didn't know what was real or a lie anymore – it couldn't have all been a lie, because there were still two little twin girls who called him uncle, who loved him and braided his hair, but there was also an apartment that might not have been funded by a dead man's money after all, paid for instead by the profit from human lives.

"The kids." His heart had slowed, his mind coming to terms with the situation, acceptance drawing over him like a cold wind. He would die here, knowing the truth…but he would still die. "What are you going to do with the kids?"

Fei-Wang looked down at the sleeping children as one might appraise animals for slaughter, with mild interest, hunger. "It's been some time since I personally handled any of my stock," he mused. "Tell me, Yuui, what did I end up doing with you and Fai? It's been so long, and there have been so many…it's hard to keep track of these things."

Fai said nothing. His silence hung around them, and Fei-Wang turned away, bored, glancing at the gun on Kurogane's hip and the initials etched onto the grip. "I wasn't expecting you, you know – it's a great coincidence for you that Yuuko put you here, at the Waldorf, instead of the Library, or you and I would have never even met. I'm not surprised that you were stupid enough to come into the building – in fact, I counted on it, regardless of which one you rushed into to meet your death – but to make it this far…well, I am a little bit impressed. You must have wanted to shoot me with that weapon of yours very, very badly, Lieutenant Suwa. How childish of you."

It took less than a second, and yet Kurogane could see it happening with slow, precise clarity: Fei-Wang raised his gun, aiming at him, and pulled the trigger. A small burst of flame, the snapping movement of the recoil, the sound – loud, as if he couldn't be bothered with a silencer because he could do whatever he wanted – and then the pain, fiery and cold all at the same time, ripping him apart. The bullet shattered through his left shoulder, exploding through the intricate bone and muscle and then back out through the shoulder blade, shattering it. As he jerked backward, hitting the wall with the force of the bullet, he had the absurd thought that he would need to go to a hospital, as the ball and socket joint was most likely reduced to a mess of pulverized bone and utterly destroyed tendons. His body slid down the wall, blood dragging behind him as he hit the carpet, and the second absurd thought struck him: annoyance. He'd have to go through major reconstructive surgery to get the use of his arm back, filling his shoulder with metal and titanium screws and god only knew what other horribly painful shit just to curl his fingertips again.

_You won't be going to a hospital, _another, more reasonable voice, spoke up in his mind, quiet, as his body began to grow cold. _You won't ever move anything again, let alone that arm._

Fei-Wang looked at him with disgust. "Kill him, Fuuma."

A dry click sounded near his temple, not a second after Fei-Wang gave the command. Fuuma chuckled. "Well, look at that – I spent all my bullets getting up here…and to think, I stopped Lieutenant Suwa with an empty gun. Damn SWAT team, they really know how to ruin a perfectly nice hotel!"

Fei-Wang's voice spoke again. "Kyle – give Yuui your gun."

Kurogane felt himself slipping into shock, the pain ebbing away some as the blood drained out of him, replaced by a pleasant numbness that began in his shoulder and was slowly working its way to his head; he'd bleed to death quickly from such a powerful gunshot – no sense wasting a bullet on him. "You're a fucking coward," he spat, his vision blurring. "You can't even kill me yourself."

"I wouldn't grant Suwa's whelp that sort of honor," Fei-Wang scoffed.

Kurogane watched as Fai rose slowly up from the couch; he walked over to Kyle. The man glared at him, handed him his gun, and crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed. Kurogane watched the blond turn toward him and walk with no hurry, his eyes fixing on him as if seeing him for the first time. He stopped right in front of him; Kurogane struggled to raise his head and stare up into the eyes of the man he thought he knew.

Fai knelt down between his legs, leaning forward slowly to press the gun under his chin until Kurogane's head was flat back against the wall. It was a slow, intimate motion; Fai's weight shifted completely forward as he reached forward with his free, right hand to steady himself, his fingers touching the gun at Kurogane's side, brushing over the initials.

Blue eyes flicked down at it, and a voice, less than a whisper, spoke.

"I knew your father." Fai stared down at the gun. "I almost thought it was him again, the day I saw you in the park…except your father had a ponytail." Kurogane discovered he could still be surprised even as his thoughts were slipping away from him, because it was the truth, something he had never shared with Fai – his father _had _had a ponytail, a silly, small detail to mention. He tried to look down, feeling the cold barrel press deeper under his chin, as Fai continued. "I grew my hair out, to be like him. He helped so many people, you know…like me."

Fai's hand tightened on the gun barrel, and Kurogane watched, his heart beating sluggishly with new energy, as Fai's free hand slid around the grip of his Glock, fingers lacing around it, expertly twisting it to the left, then pushing it counter-intuitively down – as if he had done it a hundred times before, with the knowledge that only law enforcement possessed – and unholstered it.

In one fluid motion he twisted, tossing Kyle's gun up to Fuuma as he released the Glock. Fei-Wang reacted a moment too late, and his expression – shock, the shock of a man who had discovered he was wrong when the thought that he could be had never occurred to him before – was one that Kurogane found more satisfying than anything he had imagined. It took a single second for Fai to press the gun into Kurogane's working hand, for Fuuma to bring Kyle's Derringer up and fire, sinking a bullet deep into Rondart's skull, collapsing the man backward on the floor, but it was a second too late as Fei-Wang raised his Magnum, deciding either to aim at Fuuma or Kurogane, and choosing a moment after it mattered.

Kurogane's bullet struck him in the side. If he had been in shooting practice, he might have been annoyed with himself for his poor aim, but with his good arm shaking, his lungs gasping for air, struggling to keep him from passing out, he could forgive himself. Fei-Wang stumbled backward, his gun falling to the floor as he clutched at the wound. A bright, red poppy of blood bloomed on his robes.

A second shot sounded; Fuuma had fired, and now Fei-Wang took yet another, bloody step backward, rivets of blood streaming down from the new wound in his thigh. His back was pressed against the glass, New York shining behind him, and Kurogane allowed himself a second to take a deep, steadying breath, eyes squinting as he adjusted the line of sight, and fired.

The bullet shattered through the bridge of Reed's nose and tore out through the back of his skull, shattering the glass behind him. Fei-Wang fell backwards, out into the night air, thirty nine stories above a city he had thought he owned, his bloodied, dead body reflected a hundred times in the shards that plummeted with him.

Kurogane dropped the gun, gasping, his vision blurry. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment – wouldn't it feel good to take a nap, after all this? He wasn't big on naps, but maybe, just this once – and felt someone pressing thin, shaking hands into his shoulder wound, sending stabs of pain up through his body. Someone else who sounded a lot like a bartender he met once or twice was telling him not to fall asleep, that it was important he stay awake, and he found himself arguing with people who sounded far away, telling them to get the kids out of there, don't let them see a dead body, don't let them wake up here –

New York City's lights grew hazy in front of him just before they were swallowed entirely by the darkness.

* * *

The fucking beeping wouldn't stop.

It was coming from somewhere to his left, and _Christ, _it was annoying. As he came to, he became aware of how heavy he felt – how heavy and _awful, _like he'd been hit by a bus – and discovered that he had enough tubes and wires hooked up to him to make him look like something out of a bad sci-fi movie.

"You're about to get prepped for surgery." Yuuko's head appeared above him; he tried to speak and tell her to fuck off, but a tube was down his throat. "You should hear the doctors; they're actually impressed with how much drugs it's taking to keep you knocked out."

He wasn't amused. He did his best to glare at her and felt his eyelids grow heavy again, and the strange world of beeping and pain disappeared.

* * *

"Don't move. Lie still."

Tomoyo's voice was close to him; he groaned, thankful to hear his own voice (the tube was out of his throat), and opened his eyes, squinting painfully as the fluorescent light stabbed at his pupils.

"Tsubasa…"

"Both Tsubasa and Sakura are fine, don't worry."

"Where…?"

She misunderstood his question. "You're in Bellevue Hospital." Tomoyo's hand, soft and gentle, pressed against his forehead. "You're okay. You're alive, Kurogane."

"I'm…fucked…"

She chuckled. "No, you're not. You were shot, and the doctors have promised to put you on some great painkillers, but for now, try not to move so much."

Kurogane swallowed and blinked, adjusting his eyes. Tomoyo's hair was pulled back in a braid, and her eyes were red with tears, as if she had been crying, but they were clear now.

"My arm…?"

"It's not so great." She never lied to him; he appreciated that about her. "You're going to need more surgery, and a lot of physical therapy. You won't regain your full range of motion, but if you allow it to heal and work hard with it, you'll be able to live a normal life." She rubbed one eye quickly, banishing a tear before it could fall. "That's what the doctors said."

His thoughts were getting clearer: he needed to get back to work. Hospital bills weren't going to pay themselves, especially with the insurance companies playing fuck-you with their clients. His life insurance was going to skyrocket now; it was already exorbitantly high because of his profession. "How long?"

"If you're thinking of rushing so you can get back to work, Lieutenant Suwa," a cool, feminine voice teased, "You don't need to worry about that. I'll place you on paid leave with benefits until you're ready to come back to the force. Oh, and did I say Lieutenant?" Yuuko paused, leaning over the hospital bed in full view, giving him an unnecessarily good view of her breasts. "I meant _Captain. _You've been promoted two ranks."

Two ranks. He'd been expecting to be demoted by at least six. The obnoxious beeping sounded to his left as his heart sped up; he reached over and ripped the monitor off his left finger, sucking in his breath as pain, like a hot sword, sliced through him. He fought past a wave of powerful nausea to stare up at the Chief, disbelieving what that could mean.

"Then we got him."

"The autopsy report shows that you gave the fatal shot, corroborating Fuuma's official statement."

_Autopsy report?_ He thought. _But that takes days_… His eyes widened, alarmed. "How long have I been out?"

"About six days." Yuuko pulled up a chair next to him. "The hospital staff said that only family was permitted to see you – luckily, we both have black hair. By the way, in case anyone asks, I'm now your aunt."

He snorted. She smiled, pleased to see he still had his humor intact.

"Tomoyo." He turned his gaze to look at her. "Would you mind if I speak with Yuuko privately?"

She shook her head and kissed him on the forehead before quietly excusing herself. Yuuko watched her go, and as the door swung shut, turned back to him, her smile falling away into the serious expression that Kurogane had come to be wary of.

"You have some questions for me, don't you?"

"Too many," he answered. "I want you to explain what happened, and why I can't feel my fucking arm."

"You can't feel your arm because you were shot with a .500 Magnum. You should consider yourself very lucky that Reed intended to humiliate you, not kill you, because an inch lower would have stopped your heart, not just shattered your shoulder." She crossed her legs, their eyes locked. "That is the simplest of your questions. As for the rest that I can guess you're wondering, I'll try my best."

"You never guess." He let his head fall back against the pillow, closing his eyes to listen. "You know exactly what I want to know."

Yuuko smiled at him, her voice low, soothing. "That's true," she said. "Fuuma has told me what Fei-Wang told you. Some of it was right, but most of it was only half the picture. Most importantly, Fuuma did not shoot any of our men: he said that merely for Fei-Wang's benefit. Fuuma and Fai were both working for me – they were the remaining two informants I had on the case after Xing Huo was killed; it was Fuuma who let Rondart take Hyang, as his position in Reed's inner circle was tentative, and I had put him on the assignment specifically to keep track of Rondart. It's true what Reed said about Seishiro; Fei-Wang had threatened Subaru. He did so because he had begun to suspect Fuuma, and knowing that he was Seishiro's brother, thought it best to hold two cards instead of one against the NYPD's Chief Inspector in case law enforcement ever started to pick up on him again…which we did. It is also true that Seishiro let Rondart escape at the docks; I knew what had happened almost immediately, and Seishiro confirmed as much to me in private: Fei-Wang was furious that the Hyang deal had gone through and was trying to find the rat; Fuuma had outed Xing Huo to save his life, and Seishiro let Kyle go as further insurance of his brother's safety knowing that Rondart could lead us to Reed, but never has Seishiro worked for Fei-Wang. He has always been committed to us. From the day Reed threatened Fuuma, his brother, and Subaru, his lover, Reed made his fatal mistake."

"I knew they were fucking," Kurogane mumbled. He hoped the nurses planned on showing up with those amazing painkillers Tomoyo had promised, because his shoulder was starting to hurt like a _bitch. _

Yuuko ignored his comment. "Fuuma was able to retain his trust, which allowed us to keep track of Rondart, his target. Fai passed on the info about Reed's plans to target Sakura; we did not set up the children's abduction, if you were wondering. In fact, I had every intention of preventing it, if possible, because taking him down wasn't worth risking those children's lives, but Rondart succeeded. Afterwards, it's true that he did go to the bar and get Fuuma, not knowing he was a double agent, who asked which hotel he was going to take the kids to – Rondart wasn't sure yet, so Fuuma followed him, expecting to be led to Fei-Wang and the children."

Kurogane opened his eyes and looked back at her. "Then Fai…?"

"Fai was specifically our informant for Reed." Yuuko stared at him, hard, and continued. "Fei-Wang was under the mistaken impression that Fai worked for him."

He felt sick all of a sudden. "He had him get close to me because of the case, didn't he?"

Yuuko smiled one of her rare, small gems. "No." Kurogane felt something inside him stir back into life, something tiny as of yet, but there all the same. "It was no one's doing that you two met, or kept meeting, as I heard it, and Fai tried very hard to keep it from Fei-Wang, but ultimately he was forced to reveal his relationship with you as Fei-Wang's tension mounted, right around the time Fuuma ended up outing Xing Huo; Reed kept a close watch on Fai and started to grow curious about who he was spending his time with. Perhaps if he was a smarter man he would have noticed it wasn't a coincidence that just as he started suspecting his underlings, they brought him news to make them seem loyal. To him, it was a windfall, just further proof of how brilliant he was. Fuuma told me that he said I set a tail on Fai; he's partly right."

"Miyuki?"

"I told you when you chose her that she was busy doing other things," Yuuko said. "She _was _tailing Fai, but not because I suspected him as a member of Fei-Wang's circle, as he believed – she was undercover for his protection: he was also a double agent."

Kurogane swallowed. "For how long?"

Yuuko's voice was quiet now, and kind, the way one might speak to a small child. Perhaps to Yuuko, everyone was a child. "Many, many years," she said. "When he was a small boy, only three-years-old, he and his twin brother were abducted from Germany, trafficked across the Atlantic to Manhattan by Reed. He kept them for himself, an unusual move for a trafficker seeking to make a profit, until they were seven…the same age as Syaoran and Tsubasa, when you found them. By then, the original Fai had stopped eating, but not before Reed had bored of them and set up a sale, much like what had been arranged with Hyang. Your father wasn't new to the force, but he was new to handling higher profile cases, and his first accolade – first of many – was saving those twins. We were both on the force together at the time." Yuuko spoke fondly, her voice soft with the memory. "I remember seeing your father come walking toward me, two little boys in each arm…they were in shock. They couldn't even cry." Yuuko paused and looked as though she very much wanted to have a smoke. She settled for a sigh. "Fai died in the hospital a week later from injuries that a child should never have, malnourishment, shock – it didn't matter that your father had saved the other twin; he told me that he felt like he had failed, that if he just managed to get a lead sooner, he and his men might have been able to save that other little boy."

"Fai…Yuii…told me he was adopted…?"

Yuuko nodded. "That's true. It didn't take long, only three or four months, before he was fostered into a loving home with a new family, and only a year after that he was adopted. His adoptive father passed away when Fai turned seventeen. That same year, your father was killed in action, shot by Reed himself. I found Fai in my office the next day; he'd heard about your father's death – the man who saved him – and he told me what he wanted. He said he had a wish that had been eating away at him, and he wanted to see it fulfilled. He wanted Reed dead, and he would do anything it took to make it happen. Ashura had worked very hard at protecting Fai while he was alive, but Reed had never quite forgotten about the money he lost on his sale – you saw how angry he was over the Hyang deal. His adopted cousin, Chitose, had just had twins, and her husband went mysteriously missing, his body found about a week after your father was killed. Fai was terrified that Reed might take the girls to strike back at having lost him years ago, fueled by his success against the man who had saved him, what with Ashura dead as well. He wanted to make a move before that happened; he wanted them to grow up safe. He loved them before they were even born, and Chitose had no idea of Fai's past, no real answer why her husband was dead – we never could connect the murder to Reed, but Fai was convinced. To her, Fai was just a little boy who had been adopted into her family, a cousin she grew up with. Fai told me he couldn't just tell her to leave her life behind and move out of New York City with no explanation, that he feared that moving wouldn't even help her in the long run or might even trigger Reed to target her. She didn't know the danger her children were in, and he didn't want to place that burden on her. I did what he asked of me: I sent him across the country to get his training, so no one here would recognize him, and when he was done, he came back and approached Reed."

Kurogane shuddered as Yuuko took a long, thoughtful pause, then continued. "I cannot fathom what it took for him to go back to that man and feign loyalty, perhaps even admiration, devotion, to convince him of his loyalty, his desire to return to him. Fai has never shared the details of how he ascended Reed's circle. I do know that at one point early on Reed had that tattoo placed on him as, what I imagine, he saw as a test, a mark of ownership, something physical to remind Fai even when they were separate of who he was working for and what he was capable of, to commemorate Fai coming to work for him. It must have been a great boost to Reed's ego. He allowed Fai to live his own life, knowing that it was never really his own – not really, not ever – and never threatened his family. I do not want to imagine what Fai must have put himself through for years, up until just last week, doing whatever that man wanted of him, knowing that a break might not come, knowing that he had to be patient, waiting for Reed to grow arrogant enough to slip up in some way just big enough to allow him to set everything in motion without endangering himself, or others. There were long tracks of time when I never heard from Fai; he valued what little privacy he had, but I trusted him, even as I knew of the toll the task was taking on him over time. I believe he had reached his breaking point six days ago; if SWAT hadn't come, I am certain Fai would have given his life to save those children and outed himself if it meant allowing them to be rescued. He told me that, after everything else in his life that he's been through, seeing you walk through the door instead of SWAT was the single worst experience of his entire life. He thought you were going to be killed."

Kurogane didn't speak for a long time. He stared up at the hospital ceiling, studying the grooves in the tiles. Finally he found his voice, his words not capturing the depth of his feelings.

"How is he?"

"He's very worried about you," she whispered. "He's one of the bravest people I've ever known, even though he's only ever thought of himself as a coward – he told me that once. He was too afraid to fight out in the open, like you, he said, so instead he fought like a rat, gnawing away from the inside, like a coward – those were his words, not mine. Maybe someday he'll think otherwise and understand how none of this could have been achieved without his sacrifices, but he doesn't seem himself that way. I saw him break when the ambulance took you away. He fell down on his knees in the middle of the street and cried. I'm not telling you this to make you pity him," she added suddenly, her words heavy. "Fai doesn't want anyone's pity. I'm merely telling you what I saw. He stayed with me for a day; we tried to get him into the hospital to see you, but they refused to believe that a rogue strand of genetics had yielded a blonde, blue-eyed cousin. I'm not sure if you'll approve, but he's been taking care of the twins at his place, as Tomoyo has been here at the hospital nearly the whole time. I told the boys what had happened to you. Do you know what their reaction was?"

"They cry?"

"_Those _boys? Oh, _no._" Yuuko laughed. "They jumped up and demanded to know who shot you, saying they'd go shoot him back, and 'shoot him dead,' they promised. They're still young, but when they get older, they'll be strong – not just in body, but in their hearts. I told them Kuro-daddy had already shot the man dead, and they said 'good, he deserved it.'"

"…What did you just call me?"

"Oh, where did I pick that up from?" Yuuko twittered. "How odd! Tell me, Kurogane, if _you're _Kuro-daddy, does that make Fai…_Fai-mommy?_"

"Get out," he rasped. "You're a goddamn witch! _Get me some painkillers!"_

"No need to shout," she said, and stood up hastily. She paused suddenly, looking down at him, and smiled – broad and wide and honest, without a shred of patronization – and spoke one more time.

"Your father would be proud of you."

* * *

It was another two weeks before he could leave the hospital, and his shoulder felt no better, especially because – just like he had thought, ironically enough – he had all kinds of horrible bolts and metal jammed in it now. Actually, 'his shoulder' didn't technically exist anymore, not in the flesh, anyways. A massive titanium plate was as close to a shoulder as he had anymore. He wished life could be like the movies: people took bullets to their arms and legs and walked it off. In reality, the arm and leg were filled with every bit as intricate material as the rest of the body and less fat to cushion the injury, making it worse. He had relayed to Yuuko to tell Fai (who hadn't returned any of his awkward voicemails) to not bring the kids to the hospital: he didn't want them to see him in a place filled with sick and dying people.

He stubbornly drove himself, one-handed, to Tribeca, just to prove to himself that he could._ Tribeca – _no wonder Fai could afford to live there: he made money from his flower business, not to mention from being on the payroll of the NYPD and whatever substantial flow came in from Reed's operations…_a triple income, _Kurogane thought, and Fai probably hated every cent of it. He decided not to think about that right now; he'd had plenty of time to think about a lot of things while stuck in the hospital. His left arm was in a rather intricate, sturdy sling, and Yuuko had told him he could still keep the cruiser while on leave. It was hurting him badly; he hadn't taken the painkillers in the morning so that he could drive that afternoon, and he was beginning to regret having made that decision, _badly. _Fai was expecting him, or at least, he should have been – he'd left yet another voicemail saying he'd come by around three to pick up the kids after getting discharged.

He knocked on the door to the apartment, waiting, half-expecting to get just silence, and then he heard a scrambling, like two small animals barreling over one another to get to the door. A familiar voice was calling, "Wait, wait!" and then the door was open and two scruffy brats were clinging to his legs, arms wrapping around his knees.

"Hey," he said.

They looked up at him and his sling, then burst into a chorus of shouts and welcome-home's and we-missed-you's and did-it-hurt and can-you-still-pick-us-up? (The answers, unspoken: Thank you; I missed you, too; yes; no). Kurogane looked up, past the kids, and saw Fai standing a little back from the doorway in a familiar way: arms pulled behind his back, eyes looking down at the floor, then shyly up at him before falling away again.

Kurogane shuffled forward; the twins had climbed on top of his shoes, firmly attached to him, their arms wrapped around his knees. He stopped in front of Fai, reaching out with his good hand, and let it fall on his shoulder. Blue eyes looked up at him, startled.

"Hey," he tried again.

A tentative smile answered him back. "Hey," he replied.

"How are you?"

"_Me?_" Fai laughed, a sound too forced to be natural, pointing at his sling. "How are _you_?"

"I'm airport security's nightmare," he joked.

Fai's laugh sounded now on the edge of manic. "I'll bet you missed the kids. They sure missed you," he said, pointing down at them.

Kurogane nodded. "I missed more than just the kids."

Fai smiled politely but didn't take the bait, and Kurogane understood: he knew that Yuuko had told him the truth, and he couldn't pretend like it was a month ago – _a whole month, damn, _he thought – when Fai, the real Fai, had fallen asleep in his arms. That was the last time he'd seen the real him, not that empty thing trapped in the Waldorf Towers. Fai couldn't go back to that evening they spent together, after the party, and say, "So! Now you know everything about me. Let's pick up where we left off like everything is okay, shall we?" People didn't heal that easily, and Kurogane understood that he wouldn't be resuming his relationship with Fai – he'd be starting it over with Yuii…if he let him. If he was willing to try.

Kurogane reached forward and grabbed him gently by the wrist, tugging him close. The twins were still between them, but the distance was closable: Kurogane leaned in and kissed him, pressing startled lips against his own.

Below him, Tsubasa said, "Gross."

"I saw you do that with Sakura in the park!" Syaoran let go of Kurogane and pushed his brother, affronted. "That's how Kurogane got hurt in the first place, because you wanted to kiss her!"

Tsubasa was mortified. "You did _not!_" He said, and suddenly the twins were off, scampering across the room to have it out.

Kurogane used the new freedom to reach down and slip his working arm around Fai in case the gardener decided to turn away from him again, deepening the kiss. It was just like before, slow, hesitant, and then Fai leaned into him, his hand coming up to touch his chest, scared that he wasn't real, that this wasn't happening. Fingers found flesh, real and substantial, and closed around his shirt, unwilling to let him go.

When they finally pulled apart to breathe, Kurogane looked down at him, into eyes that had life inside them that he could see again, and asked the question he had wondered about now for two weeks while stuck in the hospital.

"Why did you push me away?"

"I knew what was coming." Fai looked down, ashamed. "I didn't want him to hurt you, and I thought if I shoved you away, he might not…but it was too little, too late, but I thought you'd at least be out of harm's way. No; I should have realized, you're so _stubborn_…"

Kurogane reached up and pulled his head close to his chest, allowing Fai to hide the tears he was blinking away. His fingers caressed the short bristle on his neck, so unlike the long strands he had come to know.

"Why did you cut your hair?"

Fai's voice was muffled, quiet against him. "I've always done everything he said…that was just another thing on the list..."

"You don't have to talk about it." Kurogane held him, waiting for the darkness to pass; Fai had shuddered against him, working to compose himself, and at last he pulled away, smiling up at Kurogane with a smile nothing like the wide, grinning mask he had known. "You're going to need help with that arm of yours out of commission," Fai said. "You could stay with me, if you want…just until you can start moving it again."

"Oruha might not like that," he said. "Tomoyo told me that if you hadn't stepped in, she would have had to take the kids while I was in hospital and put them somewhere else…thanks." _Thanks _didn't cut it, but he couldn't express the enormity of how grateful he felt, but the way Fai was looking at him told him that he understood. "I renewed my lease for May, so I've got a month to move and get a place so the kids can have their own room and stop sleeping on the couch. Plus, I was getting tired of them using my bathroom, anyways."

Fai looked around his apartment, nodding: it was all a single room. "Tribeca's nice," he said, "But I've been thinking about moving, too. I don't really need my own room, though…" He trailed off, eyes fixed outside, staring off at the city through the windows, and Kurogane grinned: the blond was biting his lip, holding his breath, waiting.

Kurogane pulled him close again; he had about thirty seconds before the twins' fight got bad enough that he had to intervene (they were on punches now, but once the kicks started coming, he'd have to find a way to pull them apart with one arm).

"I've got at least two months of paid leave," he said. "I've got plenty of time to go apartment shopping…if you do."

Fai tried to look skeptical, but Kurogane could tell he was pleased and doing his best to hide it. "We might be moving a little fast, you know," he tried to backtrack. "We could slow down, if you want…"

"We can move at whatever pace you want," he said, and left him, striding forward as he shouted to Syaoran to put his sneaker back on and get away from his brother.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurogane watched Fai pull down a phone book from the top of the refrigerator and give a low whistle.

"There sure are a lot of real estate agents out there…" he said.

Kurogane turned around to hide his smile, grabbing Tsubasa by the belt of his pants with his good arm and forcibly tossing him onto the couch.

They'd have the time to go through them all.

* * *

**Author's Note:** PHEW! That's a big chapter! Well, thank you all for making it to the end – did it turn out like you thought it would? Let me know! :D **A note on guns:** I had a fun time deciding what guns the characters would use in this fic; the NYPD officers use, between them, all three types of guns that the NYPD allows their officers to choose from. Fuuma has Vash the Stampede's gun (well, Vash's gun is a custom, but it looks like a cross between a Magnum and a Schofield, if you ask me, so close enough!) because if anyone would be a gunslinger, it would be Fuuma. The note that Fuuma isn't bothered by the recoil from that (big) gun and has perfect aim on a second, immediate shot is a testament to his incredible marksmanship. Kyle uses a Derringer as a bit of an insult; it's more of a woman's gun, a tiny little thing that, if aimed right, will certainly kill you, but otherwise lacks power. Fei-Wang's .500 Magnum is as absolutely lethal as you can get with a handgun – a bullet to the head from that gun would completely obliterate someone's skull, leaving close to nothing left. For my size and height, I wouldn't even be able to fire it safely because of the recoil (which is close to that of a smaller end shotgun). Anyways, that's just some technical stuff for anyone interested. **More importantly:** **please don't give away any spoilers if you leave a review! **I always love to hear your thoughts, and I am incredibly grateful for the time you've taken to read this long work, but a lot of people will read reviews before reading a fic, and it would be a shame if the most recent reviews gave away the ending. Feel free to allude to stuff, **but please try not to give away anything major.** I hope you enjoyed the ride – I loved writing this for you! **Most importantly: epilogue to follow!**(I did promise 10 chapters, after all!)


	10. Chapter 10

**A Very Long Author's Note: ****Thanks xxx!** I don't know that I necessarily know more about guns than the next person, but then again, I'm American, so that might explain it (haha). I suppose, to my credit, I know a bit about sidearms - for instance, I wrote the story and gave Kurogane a Glock 22 (it's...so...sexy...!) and then thought, "You know, I should double check that," and sure enough, the NYPD had to be a pain in my ass and use a Glock 19 (so I had to go back and change it in every chapter), unlike every other law enforcement agency in America (but then again, that detail didn't surprise me too much - a Glock 19 can use the same magazines as a .22, but it's smaller and easier to conceal, so I'm guessing that's why the NYPD prefers them). Sometimes when I write I'm more surprised by what I DO know than what I don't! (For instance, for whatever reason, in my head I put the sea port on the wrong side of Manhattan. It took me until the second readthrough to be like "Wait wat no how do I New York City") and that's a far more important detail than the fact that, say, Yuzuriha's gun has adjustable sights. **Thanks xwittychickx!** I'm sorry about keeping you up, but I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for the feedback on breaking up the denouncement; I'll be sure to go back and make some adjustments; that was a very helpful suggestion! I really hope you enjoy the epilogue...but no spoilers from me! **Thanks, ShingetsuXMangetsu**! I'm excited that YOU'RE excited! :D **Thanks, fer-hyu!** Even though I haven't heard from you before, I'm so happy you're saying hello now! I'm really happy you enjoyed reading and I hope to entertain you again sometime in the future! **Thanks, MindlessAdri**! Yes, this 10th chapter is a fluffy, gentle come-down off the emotional roller coaster! **Thanks, Lily the Wandering Gypsy!** I am very proud of it but I am far more happy to have been able to share it with you, and your compliments are extremely kind - and please don't worry, I also don't have a smart phone, and I'm just happy to hear from you at all! **Thanks, May!** No worries about the little spoiler :) Hahaha, I hope I didn't come off as a gun-crazy American...although that's how this author's note kinda comes off! Anyways, here it is – the epilogue. Please enjoy, and once again, thank you for your time and your kind words!

* * *

**Epilogue **

Kurogane's patience was wearing thin.

"_Drink _your _milk._"

Syaoran looked at him, his arms crossed over his chest, and then back down at the glass of milk. He said nothing (he hadn't spoken for about five minutes, actually) and then glared at the glass.

Maybe bargaining would work. "You're not going to grow as tall as me if you don't drink you milk."

He pushed it forward slowly, eyeing Kurogane. "I don't like it."

"It's. _Fine._"

"You drink it."

The bus was going to be here soon, and if he missed it, Kurogane was going to have to drive through traffic to get him to school on time, effectively ruining the day. He picked up the glass and chugged the milk, and when he was through, Syaoran stared at him with open amazement. Wordlessly, Kurogane refilled the glass and all but slammed it down in front of him, the milk sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

Sensing his wrath, Syaoran grabbed the glass, drank it down in a hurry, and scrambled up from the table, grabbing his backpack off the floor. Tsubasa came out of his room, tied his shoes, and the boys were off, yelling their goodbyes as the front door swung shut.

Kurogane promptly turned around to the sink and threw up.

"_What _is that sound?"

Fai emerged from the master bedroom looking trim in his business suit, dark blue, tailored pants leading down to a pair of yet-to-be-broken in dress shoes. He watched as Kurogane leaned over the sink and vomited again, grinning. "It's the milk, huh? He used to like it, but Tsubasa told him it's cow pee." Fai paused, thoughtful. "I don't know if I should be more concerned that Tsubasa thinks milk is cow pee or that, thinking it, he stillhas no problem drinking it. One of those facts should be more disturbing than the other, but I haven't decided which."

"At twelve he should know what milk is," he spat, rinsing the sink out.

Fai laughed. "He does, he was just joking. You know how he likes to kid his brother. Syaoran's always been a bit gullible, hasn't he?"

Kurogane went into their bedroom and showered, letting the water steam away some of the circles under his eyes. It had been an exhausting night; Fai couldn't sleep, all nerves about the coming day ("There's nothing to be nervous about," Kurogane had growled at quarter past two in the morning) and had only stopped moving when Kurogane rolled over and on top of him, kissing him in the dark. Fai had always been a guarded person, locking his secrets inside himself, but he had always made an effort – sometimes excruciating – to let those walls come down. Beneath him, Fai had tensed, pulled him closer, and remained nervous but willing beneath him. It took of an hour of quiet, insistent coaxing – of soft touches, kisses, whispers and murmuring – for Fai to finally allow him to make love to him. They might fuck or screw when Fai was in control, but always – _always _– without fail, Kurogane made love to him on those rare occasions when Fai looked up at him, silent for once with eyes that said everything that needed to be said, and kissed him, long and deep, letting Kurogane push him gently down into their bed.

Last night was like the other times: he had laced his fingers through Fai's, bringing his hands above his head, pressing them into the pillow, and felt slender legs wrap around him, lifting into him. The water stung the bite mark on his shoulder; Kurogane had moved very slowly the night before, and as he thrust into him, deeper and harder, with each progressive movement, Fai had finally pressed against him in desperation, sinking his teeth into his shoulder to keep from crying out and waking the boys. When they were done, their bodies slick with sweat ("Now we have to shower in the morning – and we can't be late," Fai had needlessly reminded him, his voice heavy with sleep), Kurogane pulled him close and trapped him in a cage of his arms and limbs, stroking his hair. It was another hour before Fai's breathing evened out, and finally, crapped together on one side of the bed, they had both fallen asleep.

When he emerged, dried and clean, a suit had been laid out on the bed for him: all black, white undershirt. He dressed and decided to forgo a tie.

"Did you get the papers?"

"No!" Fai's voice floated in from the kitchen. "They're still in the safe!"

The safe was in the back of their walk-in closet, one of the amenities that Fai had insisted they find in a place four years ago. Queens wasn't a bad place to raise kids, and they lived comfortably on the top floor of an older brownstone, in a three-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment, complete with a large, open living room and kitchen. Kurogane and Fai split the rent according to what was reasonable for each of them to afford, and the result was surprisingly accommodating. They didn't feel cramped and they had room for parties, which in New York was practically a luxory. Kurogane had wanted to save money and room the boys together, but Fai had insisted they get separate rooms.

"They're gonna grow up, you know," he had said, "And they'll want to bring girls home and have some privacy."

"I'm just fostering them," he had muttered. "They'll be gone before they get old enough to bring girls home."

Fai hadn't said anything, which was rare: he had only smiled, as if he knew something Kurogane didn't (and he had).

The paperwork lay neatly under his duty belt; he tugged it out and shut the safe again, locking it, and emerged into the living room. Fai gave him the once-over and broke into a grin. He came forward and slipped his hands inside Kurogane's jacket, standing up on his toes to whisper into his ear.

"You look irresistible, all cleaned up like that, Kuro-chi…"

"We don't have time for that," he said, irritable. They had to be at the office by 9 a.m. for their last meeting, and the appointment had taken a long time to schedule. The clerk had told him, in a clipped, no-nonsense voice that if they missed the appointment, they'd be bumped to the bottom of the list for the day.

"Oh, you're no fun." Fai pouted, grabbing the keys to Kurogane's cruiser. "I'll drive!"

"No you won't." He plucked the keys out of his husband's hands and shoved him out the door, locking it behind him. "Get moving."

* * *

A year ago to the day had been busy as well. Kurogane remembered it, watching as Fai went jaunting down the stairs in his suit. They'd been together for a little over three years then, and the autumn wind was crisp, the sky the special sort of blue that insisted the world and everyone in it stop what they were doing and go for a walk. That was what Fai had said, anyways: it was a Saturday, and he wanted to go for a walk.

"Bryant Park?" He'd asked, dreading a stroll through the fashion district. Fai could spend money there like he could breathe in air.

"Central," he'd said, pulling his scarf on.

He hadn't been able to take his eyes off him, he remembered, because of how hopelessly cute he looked – it was Fai's special talent, looking hopelessly had pulled his scarf up over the bridge of his nose, and two blue eyes peaked out over it, owlish. He had even made the effort to pull his pony tail out through one of the scarf loops. The temperature had dipped sharply, and even with the sun shining in all its glory down upon the autumn leaves, Fai had still slipped a freezing hand into Kurogane's jean pockets, lacing their fingers together for warmth.

They'd been walking for an hour when Fai pulled his hand away and stopped. He looked at Kurogane and reached up, tugging his scarf down to reveal a flushed face.

"Do you know where we are?"

He snorted. "We're in Central Park."

Fai shook his head. "Look."

Kurogane looked around, trying to see what Fai saw, and slowly it came back to him. The trees were filled with leaves now, even though they had begun to fall around them in reds and oranges and yellows, but the dark, black oaks towered above them on Central Park's mall. The carrousel was back the way they had come, farther down; he looked at Fai, unsure of why he had brought him here.

"…This is where we met."

"Well, actually, _that's _where we met," Fai said, pointing to a specific tree. "I got a good look at it because I was leaning up against it, but you probably don't remember. Did I ever tell you why I was in the park?"

He shook his head.

Fai reached for his hand. "I'd been walking for hours when you found me…I remember thinking how I'd picked the worst boots in the world for walking, but that it didn't matter, because I was going to go find a tunnel to crawl under and…give up." He didn't say what he meant, but Kurogane saw the ghost of something dark in his eyes and instinctually squeezed his hand. It passed away, a forgotten memory. "And then you found me. I thought I was seeing a ghost…it wasn't the best way to meet each other, but…you found me. I went home, and later, you found me again…and again…and you just kept finding me," he repeated, and broke into a dazzling smile.

Kurogane remained silent, not knowing what was coming. In his memory now, he could picture clearly the way Fai had taken a long, deep breath, his cheeks burning from the cold and nerves, and got down on one knee.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a box, holding it up to him.

"Kuro-pu –"

"You bastard –"

"Kuro-rin –"

"You are _not _doing this –"

"Kuro-tan –"

"_Yuui –_"

That worked; it always did. Fai stopped, smiled, and said, "Kurogane Suwa…will you marry me?"

Kurogane fumed. "I was planning on proposing to _you._"

Fai grinned. "Is that a yes?"

"If you would have been _patient – _"

"I'm not hearing a '_no'_!"

"Yes, just get up off your knees!"

"I never thought I'd hear you say that." Fai stood up, brushing the dirt off his pants.

"You didn't think I'd say yes?"

"I meant I didn't think I'd ever hear you say 'get up off your knees,' but let's not be indecent in public." Fai held the box out to him, suddenly bashful. "I tried to pick out something you like. What do you think…?"

It was solid gold, thick, a square-cut ruby inlaid in the center; Kurogane slipped it on and liked the fit – snug, but not tight. He pulled Fai into an embrace and held him – no kissing, no coy whispers, just held him long enough to warm him. It was hard to believe three years had slipped away from them already. They had woven their lives together naturally, as if they had never known life outside of one another, and grown from there. There were fights – even one really bad one, when Syaoran and Tsubasa and crept into his room (Fai had left) and asked if they were going to break up. Kurogane had grit his teeth, looked down at their desperate faces, and growled "I'll kill him before I break up with him."

"That's illegal," Tsubasa had said.

"He could get a restraining order against you just because you said that," Syaoran added.

That's what he got for being a police officer and teaching them the law, he supposed.

But that had been early on, and just once, over something he couldn't even remember anymore. Other issues had come up, small ones, like differences in parenting styles (it was the opposite of what Souma had once revealed she expected, thinking Kurogane to be a dictator: _Fai_ was strict about bed times, meal times, getting homework done, and doing chores. Kurogane was a hopeless pushover, and the twins had discovered they could get away with murder if Fai wasn't home) and bigger things. They were still working on the bigger things; there were times when Kurogane would roll over in bed and touch Fai very softly on the shoulder because his body had gone rigid in his sleep, fists clutching at sheets. There were times when they would be alone and something would fall into place inside Fai and he would look at Kurogane with that haunted look and say, "I'm sorry, I can't. Not tonight." Kurogane knew that one day Fai would open up and talk about whatever memories sometimes escaped from that dark prison in his mind and woke him, gasping and shaking in the middle of the night, but that day hadn't come yet; Kurogane didn't push him, letting their relationship move at its own pace.

He had a lifetime with him. Fai could take as much time as he needed.

* * *

"What's got you all thoughtful?" Fai slipped into the passenger seat, staring at him curiously.

"I was thinking about our wedding."

Fai grinned. They'd gotten married in a small ceremony, the twins acting as Best Man for each of them. All of the faces who had been at the twins' eighth birthday party had been there, with new ones, too, friends they had since made in the years. Instead of a bachelor's party, they saved the drinking for afterwards: the wedding reception was held at The Pipe Fox in a private room big enough for the whole group (minus the kids), to get completely, utterly shit-faced, blitzed, and annihilated. Kurogane insisted there was to be no dancing, no speech-giving, but allowed the cutting of a small, modest cake, accompanied by lots and _lots _of alcohol.

Kusanagi had gotten drunk enough around midnight to rib Kurogane, pointing at Fai, who had leapt up onto the table and begun twirling as he complained loudly to the group that he hadn't been allowed to wear a dress to the wedding and it just wasn't _fair. _Over the raucous laughter, Kusanagi had grinned.

"I'll bet you fuck the _hell _out of him," he quipped.

Kurogane downed another sake and felt a pleasant buzzing in his temples. "Other way around."

Kusanagi blinked at him, looked at Fai, then back at Kurogane, then back at Fai, and somewhere in his drunken state he arrived at what Kurogane had hinted at and let out a surprised "Oh!" He downed a shot of liquor and said, "What do you think is up with _those _two?" He pointed at Subaru and Seishiro down at the other end of the table.

There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to prepare him to find out. Kurogane took another shot of liquor. "I don't want to know."

Kusanagi refilled Kurogane's glass, clapping him on the back. "I'll drink to that."

* * *

"I don't remember much from the wedding," Fai admitted.

"You did a lot of dancing," Kurogane reminded him, watching the lights change color. Pedestrians emptied out into the street. "And we agreed on _no dancing._"

"I dance when I'm drunk," he pouted. "You married me, so you have to accept it. By the way, you might want to put your lights on – _someone _took a long time in the shower."

It was quarter to nine; Kurogane turned the cruiser lights on and watched the pedestrians scurry out of his way, shooting him dirty looks. A minute before nine a clerk came out to greet them and showed them to the office.

"Kurogane, Fai – it's nice to see you again."

Oruha stood up from behind her desk and stretched out a hand to them both; they shook it and settled themselves in the chairs in front of her desk.

"I won't leave you in suspense – everything has been approved."

Kurogane exhaled slowly; all of the stress from the morning lifted away from him. Next to him, Fai gave an exuberant whoop.

"You have the paperwork?"

"Right here." He slid it forward. It had taken them a week to get it notarized, but now it was filled with all the proper signatures. Oruha nodded, tucked it into a folder, and began signing off on a certificate.

"The State of New York would like to proudly welcome you both to fatherhood," she said, finishing. "Congratulations – the boys are now legally yours. Any idea how you're going to tell them?"

Kurogane and Fai glanced at each other; they'd gone over a hundred different scenarios and couldn't decide on the best one. Oruha laughed.

"Don't worry, it'll come to you," she said. "I can't think of a better couple to adopt them, so I'm sure they'll be thrilled. They love you both."

Kurogane remembered the day he realized he loved the kids – really, truly loved them, not just tolerated or sort of liked them a little bit. Oruha had shown up two years ago and said she'd found a couple interested in meeting with Syaoran and Tsubasa.

"Why?"

Oruha had looked at him, confused. "They're interested in adopting them, obviously. It's taken us longer than usual because we want to keep them together, but they're young enough that we're still confident about their adoption outlook. It's unfortunate, but teenagers aren't usually adopted, but they're only ten, so –"

Kurogane shoved his hands in his pockets, glaring at her. "Can I meet these people?"

Oruha frowned openly now. "If they request to meet with you, yes."

"Then no."

"No _what?_"

"I'm not giving them over to some couple I can't meet and evaluate myself."

"This is _not _up to you, Kurogane Suwa –"

Fai had come home to find the two of them in a heated argument; he asked for a private word with Oruha and promised to get Kurogane under control. When he stepped back inside the apartment, the news was bleak.

"She says the couple is very kind," he tried, but Fai's voice was tight, sad. "The wife's name is Arashi…she and her husband want to start their family –"

"They can go to hell." He hadn't been this angry in a long, long time; he tried to control himself, not wanting to frighten his partner, who was staring at his shaking frame with alarm.

"You knew this day would come," he whispered.

Kurogane felt the fight drain from him. "…I didn't think it'd be so soon."

"It's been two years. They'll be adults in eight more – how long did you think you'd have them?"

He'd never thought of that before: he knew, in the back of his mind, that they'd eventually go, but he'd never faced the reality of it, not really, and now the thought of them being gone was unimaginable. There'd be no one jumping on his stomach before dawn, no one writing "COOKIES!" on the food wish-list (_every_ week, because Syaoran loved cookies), no more meetings with the principal at Tsubasa's elementary school because he had kicked a boy's front teeth out who had made fun of him for having two dads (Kurogane had yelled at him for Fai's benefit and then later bought him an ice cream with sprinkles in an _adult_, not child, waffle cone, a silent way of saying, "Nice job").

"They're _my_ kids," he said, and it would take more than the law to take them away from him. "_I'll _adopt them."

Fai had sunk into the living room couch and ran his hands up through his hair, which had finally gotten long enough to pull back in a rubber band again. "No," he said, his voice tired, but sure. "_We'll _adopt them."

Oruha had rushed his paperwork once before; she couldn't do it again, she warned, not with something this big as a legal adoption. It had been a long wait, but as they stepped out of her office and into the elevator, Fai turned and jumped into his arms.

"_Ow!"_

"Sorry!" He fell back, patting his shoulder. Kurogane winced; too much pressure and a sharp ache reminded him of the bolts drilled into what remained of his bone and the titanium plate under his skin. "I'm just so…_happy_! I…we…we have two sons!" Fai whooped in his silly way and waved the certificate up at the camera in the elevator, grinning.

"How do we tell them?"

"I don't know," Fai said. "Tsubasa is going over to Clow's place after school to play with Sakura, so both kids won't be home until dinner. They're dating, you know."

"Twelve years old is too young to be dating," he growled.

"Funny, that's how her older brother feels…" Fai laughed as he climbed back into the car. "Don't forget – we're having lunch with Souma and Kendappa at one o'clock."

"I've been trying to forget for a week now."

"You give her such a hard time, but you two were made for each other." Fai leaned over in the car, kissing him on the cheek. "Just like us!"

Kurogane didn't outwardly display his excitement as much, but Fai could sense it from looking at him; the edges of his lips were turned up in a smile.

"I have an idea of how to break the news!" Fai twisted in the seat, facing him. "It helps kids if you create a parallel situation."

"A what?"

"A parallel situation," he repeated. "Something small that helps them come to terms with something big. What's something that gets fostered and adopted?"

An expression of horror dawned on Kurogane's face. "_No._"

"'_No'_ is not a guess!" Fai was grinning at him…too widely. Kurogane pulled the car over, his hands unsteady on the wheel, and nearly took out a hydrant.

"We're not getting a dog."

"I agree – _one_ dog would be unfair, what with _two _kids."

"We're not getting two dogs, Fai."

"…Well, we're not getting them, because…" He looked at him happily, and now Kurogane understood why he was whooping and carrying on. "…because I lied about not knowing how to tell them. I already _got _them."

"No."

"Pomeranians," he said. "You should see them! They're so cute, one's all black –"

"No."

" – and one's all white!"

"_No._"

"Tomoyo thought it was a great idea! She's been keeping them at her place for the past week! The idea is we give the dogs to the boys and tell them they were once fostered, but now they're adopted…just like them!" Fai looked at him, expecting praise.

Kurogane's trigger finger itched. "You just wanted pets," he said, his voice dangerously low. "If I got them a dog, I'd get them a Rottweiler, not two little _rats –_"

"They're _not _rats, and they're just as much a dog as a Rottweiler is! Wait till you meet them, Kuro-puppy – their name is Mokona!"

Kurogane's knuckles were white in his lap. "Which. One. Is named. _Mokona?_" He choked out.

"Both of them!"

"You can't name two dogs the same _name,_" he hissed.

"'Course you can! This way, they'll both come when you call. Wasn't it a great idea?" Fai reached out and touched one of his shaking fists. "We've got a regular family now!"

Kurogane was too mad to drive home; he was furious when Souma and Kendappa let out peels of _"awww!" _when Fai whipped out pictures of what he called the "pom-poms"; he was completely beside himself with anger as they went to pick up said 'pom-poms' from Tomoyo, and nearing a brain hemorrhage when the white one licked his _face _after being hoisted into the air by Fai.

The boys thought they were in trouble when they got home, judging by the atmosphere in the apartment. Fai was standing, hands folded behind his back, with a grin wider than any they had ever seen. Kurogane sat on the couch in a cloud of fire and brimstone.

Before Fai could say anything, he snapped, "We adopted you both today. Fai got you dogs."

Fai looked fit to kill him; the surprise was ruined, but the boys dropped their backpacks onto the ground and rushed for them, tackling them one each. Kurogane hadn't seen either boy cry in years (they were tough, just as Yuuko had said they would be) but their eyes filled now, and when Fai brought out the puppies, they leapt into the twins' arms, licking at the salt on their cheeks and reducing them to a fit of boyish laughter.

Fai and Kurogane stood in the kitchen, watching the kids play with the puppies. Fai turned, sulking, and _hmped_ pointedly at him.

"I thought it was a good idea…"

Kurogane sighed. "…It _was_ a good idea. I just wish it wasn't…_pom-poms._" He shuddered as he said it. There were pigeons in New York City bigger than these things – and _shit, _what would Yuzuriha say? That little _girl_ had a sleek German Shepherd, and he had a pair of living earmuffs. "I'm never walking them."

Fai looked at him, aghast. "But I got us matching leashes! We could take them to Bryant Park –"

"We'll take them to _Central _Park," he growled. Fai settled back, smug.

"So you _will _walk them, then?"

"We'll see."

"Fai!" Syaoran's voice called out, clear and strong. "I think Mokona peed on the rug!"

"You'll have to be more specific, Syaoran," Fai answered back. "Which Mokona?"

Kurogane poured himself a cup of water and found a bottle of aspirin. He looked down to see a little white puffball looking up at him, smaller than his shoe, and sighed. It was sort of….cute. Cute-ish. It was _tolerable, _he decided as it cocked its head to the side, staring up at him with little red eyes, as if deciding something.

The Mokona pom-pom raised her leg and pissed on his shoe. Kurogane roared, Fai rushed into the kitchen, and the kids laughed.

"She's just marking her territory – that means she loves you, Kuro-puppy!"

Kurogane grit his teeth and looked at his kids, his husband…and (unfortunately) his pets. Between the six of them, they'd have enough love to fill their home for a long time to come.

**Fin. **

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for allowing me to entertain you and take up so much of your time by reading such a long fic. I had a wonderful time writing it, and I try to improve in small and big ways with each go round. If you stuck with it till the end and want to tell me your thoughts, I'm always thrilled to hear your feedback, but even if you'd rather not leave a review, thank you so much for your time. Until next time, thanks again! –TB Bacchus


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